Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!
by James Ray Edwards
Summary: AU My father is dead. He is not here anymore. But in these veins, and in my heart, his blood flows and he lives within me still! Who do you think I am? I am not my father. I am myself! I am Chrono, the Blue Breaker!
1. Entry 1 1: Mom and Grief

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Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

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Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.1:

Don't Give Your Mother Grief!

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

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Everything has a beginning, my story started back then, long ago in a galaxy far, far away...

It was the morning of Sunday the Seventh, T.C. 4653: dark, gloomy, stormy, cool, raining, thunder. Five years since the war against the Confederacy of Independent Systems; five years since the establishment of the Time-Space Administration Bureau as the new "face" of the Galactic Republic, now that the old "keepers of the peace" have disappeared into the annals of history, along with their hated enemies; five years since the day I was born.

Today was my father's funeral, a grave, solemn affair complemented by the dreary weather gracing Cranagan, capital city of the core world --- Mid-Childa. Our entire household had come, understandably aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents from my mother's side, and the few living comrades of my father. The ghastly pale chaplain was a sub-species Arkanian, engineered to be closer to humans, and an old "war buddy" of father's. Our honor guard for the procession were clone troopers, a detachment that had served under my father no less, outfitted with old fashioned autorifles (an eccentricity of my father) for a 17-gun salute (an award from his posthumous promotion).

Clyde Leo Harlaown Le Fay had never been cut out for a desk job. He was too busy saving "the universe" to be bothered with paperwork, and honestly, did not care whose toes he had to step on to get the job done. It was a time of unrest and uncertainty, when people needed heroes more than ever; he had risen to the occasion with no fuss or fanfare, like tying his shoelaces for another savage day in the cosmos. Thus, his actions effectively doomed his career, as he was to never rise higher than Captain, having stepped on one too many toes, but more tragically, perhaps, he had estranged himself from his only son.

His headstone read simply enough:

Admiral Clyde Leo Harlaown Le Fay

T.C. 4623-4653

The Country Boy from Nowhere Who Did

Friend, Comrade, Mentor, Husband, Father, and Hero

The Galaxy is a Poorer place without Him

He will be dearly missed...

**Amen**.

...Well, that was the obligatory response, anyway. I never got to know my father, though I recall vague glimpses of him at my last birthday party, and some other --- celebrations that I cannot remember the exact reasons for. I had seen plenty of pictures and pictcasts about him, there are even books and documentaries about his exploits of which I have heard quite enough, but was Clyde Harlaown ever a real father to me?

The answer, unfortunately, was "No." I knew him only as a great man to be proud of and to measure my own limits and accomplishments against, his blood and noble spirit flowing through my veins, nurtured by my mother and her very much long lived family. Even so, I held no ounce of resentment or cruel apathy to him, as I watched the mourners file past in the rain one by one to pay their respects.

Mother grieved terribly, huddled against grandmother, Morgan Le Fay, a beauteous platinum-haired centenarian who did not look a day past her fortieth cycle. Grandmother had lost two husbands in her lifetime, both "civil" servants to the people in the line of fire, and arguably had the most experience dealing with "this sort of thing." After the second man, she swore she would never love and certainly not marry again, especially not a "warrior". But considering grandfather Soki, a rather handsome aqua-skinned Iridonian, with only two horns protruding from his forehead and a mane of dark hair, and virtually ageless, was standing vigil beside her, she must have changed her mind.

Eventually the service ended, and our household, the House of Le Fay, boarded the waiting hover limousines and sedans that would take them back our ancestral manor. My father's comrade had been invited to join us for tonight's vigil as well, but politely declined, boarding their own personal speeders as they, too, had their own responsibilities to attend. Just as well, the clone troopers had formed up and marched off, presumably to the next funeral.

The only ones left were myself, mother, grandfather, grandmother, the good chaplain, and the funeral director, granted the latter two stood by a good distance off out of respect.

"That Clyde; always, always I told him that as a warrior, he should prepare better for his death," murmured Soki, his golden eyes alight with nostalgia. Dressed in a black form-fitting battlesuit with full military honors, and a ceremonial power sword buckled at his hip, he cut quite the tall striking figure, even if he was holding up an umbrella in the other hand.

Something akin to a devil watching the passing of his favored rival, methinks.

"Soki, please; do not say such dreadful things," Grandmother Morgan shushed him, brandishing her evil eye for good measure. Her long platinum hair was down in a simple ponytail for a change, instead of her more eccentric styles, and dressed she was in a modest black dress and a veiled hat. Fair skinned and still beautiful, side by side mother and daughter were almost indistinguishable, if it were not for the hair color, and that grandmother bore a diamond-shaped seal on her forehead and cheeks where as my mother was gifted a different pattern.

"He was the most uncommon human I ever had the honor of meeting, and it is just like him to leave so many crying for him at his passing. And the reckless rascal had the nerve to name me and yourself as the executors of his will, in the event his wife is unable to carry it out. Bah, he knew it too how much I hate dealing with legalities."

"Husband, if you keep antagonizing your daughter, I will be forced to see how well your toes hold up against my durasteel reinforced high heels."

"Why, my wife, I have no idea what you mean. I was just remarking on how your son in law brilliantly frakked this entire situation up, leaving my daughter devastated, and my grandson..."

"Soki, enough. We all knew this was a possibility."

"Heroes are not martyrs, and I have half the nerve to piss on the coffin of this sithspit idiot for..."

"**Enough**, Soki."

"Morgan, the rest of them might be able to accept he made the right decision, but to I --- it was wrong. The Galaxy, his friends, his comrades, his **family**! ---has no use for _dead_ heroes. How --- how could he have accepted death so easily? _That_ could not have been the Clyde I knew! This _**empty **_coffin that is about to join in rest with the earth is a joke, a spectacle for others to ease their egos and laugh."

And lo, my mother began to cry again, as I observed the tense stand off between grandmother and grandfather. Contrary to appearance, my grandmother was in fact a very accomplished _magi_, and a veteran of more battles than she can count. My grandfather, all the same, was no slouch either, though he possessed no potential as a mage, for he had fought in the war and long before then: a man who lived for battle and honor.

If these two came to blows, it would likely turn into a bloody brawl. I for one should know best, considering both of them saw to my physical education and even taught me a few tricks. Yes, they did want me to have a normal childhood, playing with my cousins, enjoying my ephemeral carefree days.

Problem is, I, Chrono Clyde Harlaown Le Fay, happened to have been born an oddly precocious and serious child, which I imagine you can tell by my tone. I act more like an adult than most of the adults around me, and it is usually myself settling disputes between my "siblings" and taking care of them, even though they were older than me!

Between the hollow coffin, the chilly rain, and the seething adults --- I think it was then that the brilliant, "uncommon" proposal struck me then: one of the many that would change my life, forever, and put me irreversible so on a fantastic journey to the stars. A journey where I would meet a Faithful Scholar, a White Devil, a Black Valkyrie, and many more friends, enemies, lovers, rivals, and so on.

"Mother, Grandmother, Grandfather: I have an announcement to make," I addressed them with all the serious formality a five year old could muster.

As a child, I found it most unusual how whenever I spoke, people honestly listened to what I had to say. In fact, they usually dropped whatever they were doing in barely restrained embarrassment or panic, before eyeballing me savvy-like. I regret to say I lost this talent as I matured for I spoke much more often, undertaking an almost roguish, dastardly, yet respectable persona (to an extent) that was presumably just like my father's...

"A-Ah! Chrono, what is it?" Grandfather replied to me first, a sheepish grin on his face.

My Grandmother gave a weak smile, as she focused her efforts in comforting mother, who calmed down somewhat now to perhaps listen to me as well. Of course, the lack of eye contact from mother did not help me ascertain her intention or mood as her veil hid her eyes from my own. Nevertheless, I was resolute in my purpose and nothing would stop me now.

"My father is dead. He is not here anymore. But in these veins, and in my heart, his blood flows and he lives within me still! I swear to you all here and now, I will quell the maelstrom of the stars, but that raging sea will not be my grave for I shall return here to earth to be by your side, and I will be victorious! Who do you think I am, I wonder?

I am Chrono. I am not my father Clyde. I am myself! The Blue Breaker, Chrono!"

I suppose it was a motivating speech; problem is, I was only five years old then, so I had yet to learn the finer points of public speaking. Thus, I effectively killed the effect by bowing out dryly:

"Please, enroll me into the Battle School tomorrow. I am joining the Bureau."

My grandfather gaped.

My grandmother blushed.

And my mother fainted dead away in tears, much to their horror.

It was quite the spectacle, and I expected to be punished quite so, if the chaplain had not interrupted right then with a helpful word:

"Boy, didn't your grandparents teach you: _don't give your mother grief_?"

Why yes, they did. Too bad, I forgot about it in the spur of the moment for that one transgression against my mother, Lindy, would haunt for the rest of my natural life. She never, never, ever forgave me for that, which is probably one of the big reasons why she still mothers me like a baby boy to this very day.

Like now, where I'm bound in a straight jacket in the conference of Riot Force Six's headquarters sitting on a couch, and my mother just so happens to be across the coffee table on another couch, sipping tea and being "motherly".

I'm sorry, Mother. No, I'm not getting married yet. All right, all right, I'll call you "_Mom_", so please, don't cry. No, I'm not in a relationship with anybody, Mom. No, I'm not going to the marriage meeting next Sunday. Mom, I'm only twenty-four, that's too young to be getting married, though I understand Vivio does need a mother as I've taken her into my custody, as my daughter. Yes, I know Nanoha-chin, Fate-chan, and Hayate-chama are right outside the door with Vivio (I swear, she's not my secret love child); Yuuno, Amy, and the Liese girls are concealed behind your couch; Vita, Signum, Shamal are hiding up in the ceiling with Rein II (I promise, she's not my **other **secret love child); not to mention Riot Force Six, Sister Gracia, Acous, and the whole rest of 'em troublesome lot are parked right outside the windows too.

What are my chances of escaping? A thousand percent sparking.

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To be continued...

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Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.1 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. Oh, and it should not be hard to pick out the inspirations/fusions implemented into this Alternate Universe. Keyword: The Force and vice-versa. As for pairings, fellas, it's a HAREM effect fic; feel free to support your favorite gal or DUDEtte. I am just trying to make things as entertaining as possible, and still get a kick out of it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	2. Entry 1 2: Recruit Days

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Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.2:

Recruit Days are Harsh

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

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I was enrolled into the Battle School about two weeks after the funeral. The whole time, I think, my mother was doing everything in her power to dissuade from joining the Bureau in any capacity, be it as an enlisted man or a commissioned officer. It was only with great, extreme, teary-eyed, hysterical reluctance that she signed the last of the papers, officially deeming me property of the Time-Space Administration Bureau on a nine-by-four contract: nine years inactive, wherefore I would complete my training and schooling, and four years active duty.

Training and regulations back then were different from what we go through today, on both the enlisted and officer side. The Bureau was in its childhood, a paramilitary force comprised of both the old and the new, and we were in short supply of everything, most importantly manpower. Thus, young children like myself, who were willing to sacrifice our childhoods and become the next generation of leaders, were accepted without question as long as we could pass the necessary aptitude tests and vice-versa.

Grandfather warned me, of course, before I added my own signature that the next nine years of my life was to be the most excruciating crucible ever imagined. He was a decorated officer from the war and now a combat instructor at the Battle School, but even his own blood grew uncomfortable at the thought of training regimen conducted there. The instructors there **made** men out of boys, leaders out of the meek, and the finest warriors out of mewling schoolchildren. Weakness of the body, inadequacy of the mind, and flaws of the soul would be sought out and eradicated with extreme prejudice.

Any boy or girl who was incapable of living up to the task would be sent home in disgrace, right away; no questions; no trial; no appeal; end of discussion. The Battle School would make me --- or they would **destroy **me.

I arrived to Recruit Training Depot Dilos Island, in the wee-early morning of Juno the 22nd, T.C. 4653: Monday morning jitters, anxiety, anticipation, cool, and a touch of a breeze. Standing on those yellow footprints amongst a sea of a thousand odd hopeful boys and girls, of all races and backgrounds gave me an appreciation of the wide diversity of peoples we were representing in the galaxy. From here, we would be taking our infant steps to our destinies, for we would be in-processed and sorted out accordingly to ability: those who possessed the magical talent and those who did not, as both recruits had their roles to play and unique challenges to surmount.

I would spend four long, arduous months on _that _island, before my graduation as an officer candidate. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. The island was about two kilometers across in any direction, surrounded by a marsh on the inland side and the sea on the other, partially civilized with the base, an old abandoned airfield, firing ranges, obstacle courses, dirt roads crisscrossing through the harrowing woods, and so on. The only way off, reasonably speaking, was the three kilometer bridge linking the mainland to the island.

It was here I would come face to face with Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau, a Mandalorian mercenary hired by the Bureau, who oversaw training here at Dilos Island **and** taught classes at the Battle School's various terrestrial war colleges. His image would be burned forever into the retinas of my five-year-old self (and I imagine many others in my training platoon): a tall, cadaverous man, wearing a plastic smile, and eyes burning with a darkness that held no pity or compassion.

Even now, I pray I never cross paths with the madman again, as the sergeant major took it upon himself to become a second father to me. You see, on the day we were standing on the yellow footprints, I was the only "son of a nerfherder" to make eye contact with him (big mistake) and not flinch away (bigger mistake). Apparently so, he took a liking to me straight away, and thus, appointed himself the one and only drill instructor for my training platoon.

The next time we cross paths, I swore, one of us was going to need to see a healer, and it was not going to be me.

Platoon 2058, 3rd Deck, Lead Series, Hotel Company, 2nd Battalion: we were run like dogs. In fact, we were Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Vau's personal devil dogs. We had the highest "drop" rate, that is recruits being sent home or sent to medical --- "the broke ones" --- as they were no longer physically able to train, on the entire island. Being a Mandalorian, he only thought it obvious that we should be brought up as Mandalorian warriors as well, and he taught the _Mando _way through discipline, and all too often violence.

The choice was really quite simple: either fight your buddies --- or fight him. Needless to say, no one ever choose the sergeant major; after all, a five-year-old boy to take on a fully grown man that made war and legalized murder his trade, was obvious enough to suicide. I could only wonder how he would have trained female recruits at 4th Battalion, whom I prayed never had the "pleasure" of being under his tutelage.

At Dilos Island, I was indoctrinated the fundamental basics of soldiery: discipline, physical fitness, marksmanship with both old fashioned autorifles and modern blaster rifles, teamwork, our culture - the _espirit de corps_, martial skills, first aid, survival skills, drill, and sure enough, academics. The only thing missing from that entire training schedule was "Magic", which according to the sergeant major, runts like us did not deserve to learn "Magic" yet.

We would get our chance, if we managed to "graduate."

Fortunately and unfortunately, I had the additional joy of receiving "hands-on" leadership training from Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Vau. Right from the start, I was nominated the 4th Squad leader along with four other individuals: the platoon guide --- our "leader", 1st squad, 2nd squad, and 3rd squad respectively. We had a 125 (including ourselves, though that number was subject to change, swiftly) recruits in our platoon, and the squad leaders were responsible for thirty recruits a piece. We were to memorize the names of those thirty, know where they were, what they were doing, and command their respect and obedience at all times.

If somebody screwed for the tiniest thing, such as being unable to dress and/or undress expediently enough to Sergeant Major's liking --- the **consequences **were on us. And by the Stars, he fell on us like a demon from hell; if this were not military training, what he did to us on the quarterdeck, in the showers, and in the sand pits would have been tantamount to child abuse and plenty more atrocities. We learned quick to take charge, expect nothing short of perfection from our boys, and they too learned as surely as lightning struck that "Sithspit" rolls downhill fast. Once Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Vau was done with us, we would be going after them next --- **after lights**.

The training was unbelievably hard, and I wish for no other five year old to experience the same horrors I did. Though I have to admit, there was no doubt on the island we were **the **hardest training platoon, and the other training platoons gave us a wide berth out of respect. Of course, with training that hard and getting "killed" at any minute by the sergeant major, a lot of boys did not make the cut, and I soon found myself promoted to platoon guide.

We made honor platoon, the most decorated training platoon on the island that training cycle, no contest. PFT (Physical Fitness Test), Drill, Academics, and Rifle Range; we won them all. I was the honorary graduate, marching in front of the entire company with the company guidon over my shoulder, dress uniform smart, pressed, and savvy, feet numb and hurting, hands bandaged up, and bandaids and gauze crisscrossing my arms and neck. Watching us on that parade deck, I think, was the only time I ever saw the sergeant major smile with any real emotion, obviously proud of his work

I would learn later we were not the first of his students but the latest in his long illustrious history of "excellence." In the end, there were only thirty-five of us left (a clear seventy-percent failure/drop out rate), and they were the toughest bunch of five and six-year-old boys you will ever come across. They were ready **and **able to go to war, right now, and if they were under Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Vau's leadership, they would **kill **without hesitation.

Graduation was --- a day of days for me. It was the first day in four months that I, finally, let my guard down. I felt safe and relieved for I had inexplicably survived the worst ordeal in memory at that young stage of my life; if I could survive four months of hell with Walon Vau, I felt I could do anything for that evil man had prepared me so well.

Novem the 1st, T.C. 4653 was the day I graduated: Officer Candidate First Class, Chrono C. Harlaown. My mother, my grandmother, and my grandfather showed up that day; they were the ones I was closest to in our long, old family -- the House of Le Fay --- so I invited them, personally. Of course, they were free to invite the rest of the house, our relatives, the manor staff, their friends and acquaintances too, if they wished, but considering the occasion was rather intimate and personal...well, it is understandable, yes?

As soon as the sergeant major dismissed us, along with the rest of the company, there was a huge outcry of celebration: cheers, whistles, whoops, confetti being flung in the air, banners, and ribbons. The blast of emotion hitting my back sent chills up my spine (as we had about faced as our last drill movement upon being dismissed), drawing out a rare smile, as I resolved to step away from the mob of graduates, parents, relatives, and friends. No offense, but I never did like being in crowds, chalk it up to my upbringing, not to mention Vau's lessons that being in gaggling crowds opened oneself up to ambushes.

Naturally, I barely managed to get to the rim of the festivities before I heard a long histrionic suffering and pathetically cute:

"_CCCCCCCCHHHHHRRROOOOOONNNNNNOOOOOOoooooooooo_!"

I recognized the voice, and thought about briefly over several possible course of actions:

A. I could take evasive action, with the right timing, sidestepping the cyan-haired human bullet of motherly love and watch her plow mercifully into the grass beyond the parade deck.

B. I could turn around to face the cyan-haired human bullet of motherly love and watch her plow into me, my brain case mercifully ricocheting into her blessedly endowed "inertial retardation devices" --- read: bosom or breasts--- before she proceeded to smoother me between the said glorious bust in a beautiful suffocation of love.

C. I could brace for impact, accept my fate, and at least not be suffocated to death, while praying she does not break me too badly. I am partially injured here, you realize? And I am not prepared to argue with the laws of motion and Murphy right now.

I tried to think it over again in the few terminal seconds I had left, and ironically, decided to settle for option B. Drama is not my expertise, but considering my mother loves it, I think can stomach losing some air and being abused for a teddy bear, temporarily.

"Hello, Mo-MMFff!" I managed out just before the impact.

The first thing that hit me was assault of scents and freshly laundered clothing: her fragrant perfume of the day, a soft green scent, combined with a modern androgynous aroma, courtesy of her sunscreen lotion. Naturally, it spiked a gagging reaction out of me, compounded further by her body heat and my inability to breathe. I did not catch any of the doting "gibberish" that came flying out of her "BS dispenser" at a million miles per minute, considering I was concentrating on not moving to conserve my limited air supply.

Honestly, she could not have missed me that much, could she? I had kept consistent written correspondence (rather old fashioned but it works) with her, grandmother, and grandfather. It was all I could do to strip down the "care packages" she sent me with all of her letters, grudgingly most of it went to Vau, a source of amusement for him to no end:

"Recruits like you need no frakkin' chocolate chip cookies! Oh, an' Guide? My complements to your mum. I **will** be sure to let you watch me eat these the next time you sithspit fodder are on my quarterdeck!"

I loathe that man.

"Um, Ma'am, Colonel Jaohm: isn't she being a little rough?" an unfamiliar masculine voice, a firm authoritative baritone chimed in with attentive concern.

A lilting laugh responded, belonging to my Grandmother's lyric soprano, a warm voice with a bright, full timbre, "_Tee hee hee_, dear, that is perfectly normal for Lindy! After having not seen your loved one for so long, wouldn't you want to do the same to express your love and affection for them?"

"Uh, well...that's..."

"Do not fret too much, Lieutenant-Commander Onodera; for our sake's, I would not want my grandson to die prematurely of overly zealous...embracing," Grandfather's ever reliable bass boomed out.

I pray my mother comes to her senses soon, or someone rescues me. I think I have another good thirty seconds left. Please? Somebody? Anybody? Help?

"...C-Captain Harlaown, please! He's starting to turn blue!" the lieutenant-commander gallantly came to my rescue. The Stars bless the man.

Of course, this earned a gasp of shock from my mother who promptly wrested me free, allowing me to breathe and see something else besides the black rim of my barracks cover. Unfortunately...

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry!" she apologized to me, forgetting altogether to steady me.

... the unintentional suffocation (partly my fault) had left me a touch weak in the knees and dizzy at that, though once again, Lieutenant-Commander Onodera was my savior. He caught me by the shoulders, preventing an undignified trip straight to the concrete of the parade deck, not exactly a flattering experience. I would have lived on in infamy as the one graduate who "passed out" and broke his noggin' on Graduation Day, not from the heat or stupidly locking his knees for too long in formation, but from his mother being too affectionate.

"I got you, kid. Just breathe steady."

"C-Chrono, honey! I'm so sorry. Mommy didn't mean to; it's just..."

Sensing her distress, I replied as soothingly as I could manage, "'Tis all right, Mother. I understand your feelings, I missed you, and I love you too. Four months is a long time to be separated from you and everyone at home."

My mother's happy sigh of relief, and the once more uplifting atmosphere meant I had managed to avert the sudden crisis with the right words. I suppose everyone was a touch surprised I still spoke so formally, as the environment I had lived in tended to foster a natural affinity to more rough, casual vernacular. Despite the roaring chatter and celebration close to us, a kind of hushed silence settled in as I propped up my cover for a better look at everyone.

Grandfather was the same as always, never mind he was occupied yet again with an uncharacteristic item --- a parasol no doubt for my mother. He had come today clad in electromesh armor, a lightweight, glossy black and form fitting battle suit that allowed for maximum flexibility, with his "combat" power sword at his side. He named it "Olde Ye Faithful" (transliterated into Galactic Basic from his beloved Zabaraki, a less than satisfactory attempt must to his ire) for it had served him well, as evidenced by the wear and tear all over the aged "broadsword" yet still serviceable from dedicated maintenance. Now, if you are wondering as to why my grandfather is always "ready and willing," that is, him appearing in combat/battle suits and being armed, the explanation is simple:

You can take the soldier out of a fight but you can never take the fight out of a soldier. He had been born and raised on Iridonia, homeworld to his race, and where their greatest warriors originated from. The much belated war against the Separatists had been his coming of age. Every day he prepares himself for the next war, and the only reason he is not out fighting right now amongst the stars: it was time for him to teach. In accordance to his warrior culture, what he had learned thus far was to passed down to the younger generation of warriors and soldiers, before seeking to attain more knowledge from "the mother of battle" that could end his life.

Understandably, it must have been one of Grandmother's secret worries, hoping no doubt that he would continue his present "meditation" as long as possible. Today, she had mirrored my mother with a parasol, a simple white sundress, and tasteful sandalettes, her long silky platinum hair free and unbound to enjoy a merciful breeze. What she was thinking or was feeling behind that serene smile and twinkling cyan blue eyes I did not know, but the least I could say she was proud of me.

Mother, on the other hand, wore her hair up as per usual and wore a more youthful cut of the said sundress in a light sky blue color. They were both very much so beautiful. However, I could not shake the ill feeling that my mother had not altogether recovered from my father's death. Four months, after all, is much too soon, and I could feel that heavy emotion drifting through the sugar coat of happiness in her eyes, as she looked upon my face.

She noticed the gauze, the bandaids, and the bandages on me, of course. Training policy on the island was simple: unless you were broken and bleeding out all over the place, you did not need bacta or a healing spell to patch you up. Our predecessors from wars long past had to make do with much less conveniences, and we would make do as well. If we cannot bear this much, what the hell were we going to do when the real shooting, the screaming, and the dying starts?

I imagine Mother wanted to say something, judging by how her eyes began to water and quiver, but she abruptly looked away, unable to look at me. I think it would be wise to talk to her later in private. It seems she might not be well adjusted to my coming future yet, which is understandable.

My mother, Lindy, already lost a loved one, the closest one to her heart, to the uniform I will be wearing some day soon. How could she possibly bear to lose another in the trials of the coming years: an accident, a training exercise gone wrong, or worse, killed in action? It would shatter her heart, completely...

..._destroy _her.

Yes, I needed to talk to Mother.

Now, my savior and unexpected "guest" came, of course, as a surprise. I was not expecting anyone else to show up, besides mother, grandmother, and grandfather. So who was he exactly? Well, he was certainly a officer, human presumably (if not from a near-human species), a navy man by his rank of Lieutenant-Commander and his light khaki-colored full dress uniform: around my mother's age, but her junior by around five cycles. He was tall, fit, broad shouldered, clearly handsome by human standards, with a touch roguish and wild, short curly brown hair and brown eyes that could have mistaken him for a casanova if it were not for the conservative air of respectability about him.

If I was not mistaken I had seen him before...yes, back at the funeral in the presence of an older gentleman dressed in the same fashion as him, smoking a pipe despite the rain. My scrutiny of his person, however, did not go unnoticed by my subject and the lieutenant-commander smiled sheepishly:

"Ah, I guess I ought to introduce myself: Lieutenant-Commander Tetsuya Onodera, Weapons and Tactics Evaluation Corps, '_Taskforce Forty-Seven_'. You --- you could say I'm an acquaintance of your father. I was in town taking care of some reports to the higher ups, when I ran into your mother, _awkwardly_; one thing lead to another and...well, she invited me to come and here I am."

I do not know why he was blushing, and I felt compelled to find out, strangely enough:

"Sir, is it not a little too hot to be wearing your full dress uniform?"

"...Ah! Well, y-y-you see..." If it was not possible before, the man flushed redder.

"Ch-Chrono!" Mother scolded me, drawing my attention to her, where I discovered she, too, was sporting a healthy shade of red upon her complexion. "What did I tell you before about teasing adults?"

...Excuse me? Teasing adults?

Grandmother laughed, "Nonsense, Lindy! Setting fire to Dear Tetsuya's luggage was **ingenious**. The poor dear had nothing else to wear besides his dress uniforms! I was more than happy to take you two out shopping to properly compensate him, while he was still on leave."

...My mother did what?

"M-Mother! You promised me you wouldn't say a word about, um, **that**!" Mother cried foul play, with a girlish pout.

"So sorry, Lindy, the devil in me just, oh, could not resist!"

I felt a big sweat coming down as the classic histrionic showdown between mother and daughter was about to be unleashed: elegant Morgan, the ruling matron of our noble household, armed with a sharp tongue, eerie penetrating wit, and a "killer" haughty laugh. Then, there was her upstart daughter, Lindy, still in the rough, her youth and benevolent stubbornness be unwilling to give up without a fight. Grandmother had been a force in the political scene ever since she succeeded as head of our house and has been in her fair share of scraps in "The Game of Houses" against the other noble houses that ruled the High Council, which governed Mid-Childa.

There are seventy-eight houses in total: twenty-two major families, the major arcana, and fifty-six lesser families, the minor arcana, whom come and go surely as the seasons turn. Those of the major arcana, like us, "squabble" and plot, much like our lesser counterparts in an effort to reach the top of "the game." As it stands, the House of Le Fay bears the title of "The Judgment (XX)", unchanging and rightly so for ten-thousand years of recorded history.

You see, it is our _geis_ passed down by the Stars from the time of "_The Dreaming_," a lost fantastic age that existed presumably before the time of the Golden Empire of Al-Hazard, "to pass judgment". We are not to seek our own gain or glory. We are guardians, sentinels, the servants of the people; here to bring "judgment": hope, redemption, salvation, rebirth, the end of repression, and a new beginning.

Ah, but I digress. Thinking about politics, my family history, and Mid-Childa history is not something I ought to be wasting time over. Today's my graduation and the start of my short leave, about week's worth, before I report to my next duty station at the Battle School's terrestrial war college, "Atlas, the Giant's Pit", in the state of Yuktobania. I could not very well have Lieutenant-Commander Onodera passing out in the heat on the parade deck either, while we waiting for dueling "dragons" to settle their fond mother-daughter spat. He was our guest!

"Grandfather, any ideas how to stop mother and grandmother?" I inquired to my grandfather, standing vigil and silent, as the two women swashbuckled in a titanic duel of wills and heated witticisms. Poor Mister Onodera could only stand by helplessly at the edge, tempting fate and wondering if he should step in or not.

Grandfather Soki nodded grimly, "I do, but it would result in yourself, myself, and young Onodera receiving a flurry of slaps to our faces. Righteous feminine fury, you understand?"

"...How about an alter-?"

I never finished my words for it was then **he** made his appearance. The drawling, sarcasstic bordering on sadistic, Bel Canto baritone of Sergeant Major Walon Vau grated against my ears, effectively ruining my good mood:

"Good day, Ladies an' Gentlemen! I wouldn't 'appen to be interruptin' a sweet family reunion now, am I?"

As a matter of fact, you are the last face I want to see any time soon. Grandmother and mother, instantly, cut their playful "contest" short: the former stiffening, a harsh glare on her face, while the latter reeled back with tentative caution. It seemed Grandmother knew a "wolf" when she saw one, and my grandfather moved to interpose himself between Vau and the womenfolk. Oddly, his golden eyes seemed to gleam with recognition at the sight of Vau, and he did not tense but rather relaxed, coiling up like a pit vyper ready to "sting".

Poor Lieutenant-Commander Onodera sensed, distinctly, the hostility in the air, and let out a suffering sigh.

"Colonel! So good to see you again," Vau smiled that signature plastic "smile". Having a thermal detonator delivered straight into your fighting hole at 0300 in the morning was more comforting than it.

"Aye, sergeant major." Grandfather nodded.

"I heard that a death in the family was your reason for absence, but I had no idea you were related to _that _Harlaown, sir. Imagine my surprise!"

"I trust, training is as high to your standards as ever, sergeant major?"

"Of course, sir. It was my personal _pleasure _to oversee the training of Officer Candidate First Class, Harlaown. By Jango's bones, if he does not make commissioned officer, he 'ill still be the best Mandalorian to ever walk off this parade deck. I guarantee, the good Admiral Harlaown would be proud to see the young warrior his son has become. No one trains harder on this island than **me**, and my boys are proof!"

"That would explain his lingering injuries and your noticeably small platoon," Grandfather noted dully.

Vau chuckled openly with an eerie grin, "Sithspit, _shavit_, and scum **floats **just like cream, sir. It's our duty, our mission to weed out the weak from the strong. After all: **impotence **is a _**sin**_, and considering we are talking 'bout the oh-so-precious _lives_ of folk that these boys and girls will be leading some day...I wouldn't want anyone's ghost to haunt me and make me the easy scapegoat."

The atmosphere between the two men grew positively frosty, even I was forced to take a step back with the lieutenant-commander. If blood was to be shed now in this festive atmosphere of jubilation, I would not be surprised one bit. The human Mandalorian and the Iridonian were sizing each other up in barely subtle animosity.

"War is a terrible, ugly business, sir. It touches us all, an' **changes **something inside. I have only acted in my capacity to do justice to the dead by doing my duty, so that they will not be sullied by the living."

"Understandable, but I have a _different _means of achieving the same ends, sergeant major."

And lo, did Vau smile, satisfied apparently by Soki's words...

"I see, so will you be returning to full duty for the remaining training cycle, sir? I just finished up my rotation here and will be posted to Atlas over in Yuktobania..."

Wait...! Atlas! Did he just say Atlas?

"...which, I believe, means I'll be seeing you and Officer Candidate First Class, Harlaown, won't I? We can't very well let another _brave _**fool **of a Harlaown go adventuring off into space and get himself killed **again**, yes?"

That son of a Sithspawned harlot!

Anger, indignation, **fury**...! I was ready to hurl myself at the evil man. My blood was boiling, the fight flooding into my veins, and balling my hands into fists. I did not know how he had did it, but Vau had provoked me. The entire time I had been here, he had never succeeded once, but just now...to me, to Mother, to father, our family...he-!

I. can't. forgive. him.

However, before thing could turn bloody, I was stopped unexpectedly by the firm hand of Lieutenant-Commander Tetsuya Onodera. I was riled up enough then to lash out at him for getting in my way, but **the look** in his brown eyes stilled the beast in my heart. Back then, I was too young to describe and comprehend what those feelings were that shined with captivating clarity in his eyes. And he spoke this much to me, a playful conspiratory whisper in my ear:

"That _guy_... Who the **hell **does he think we are? He has no idea, no clue in the galaxy! Oh, we'll show him. We'll show him he's dead wrong. '_Whether it's impossible or laughable, great men open up paths of victory! If there's a wall, we smash it to smithereens! If there's no path, we make one with these hands_!' These fiery words that are mine now, and this burning soul...that I learned from your father, Chrono."

I was in awe. How...unexpected, to hear such a thing that bizarrely resonated with me as well. Then again, I suppose I should have expected it from this surprising man, whom I was to acknowledge eventually as my second father, truly. And little did I know this was something of a joke from my own father, seemingly reaching out from beyond the grave because all the men who I was to acknowledge as my fathers and grandfathers had been moved by him.

In this different and special way, you could say, even though he was dead, my father was still raising me, teaching me, and I was getting to know him.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.2 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. I tried to make this kind of exciting, but I hate to say it turned out to be more exposition and gritty military realism, than I would like. Then again, there really is not anything glorious about going through recruit training/boot camp having been there myself as an enlisted, and Walon Vau would appropriately be the drill instructor from HELL. Becoming a commissioned officer ain't easy or a joke.

In any case, look forward to Atlas for some militaristic school drama-style fun, homage set pieces, and don't sweat: three years there is going to fly by real fast so we can hit up our next stop.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 14 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	3. Entry 1 3: Atlas

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.3:

Atlas, the Giant's Pit

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

My week of leave flew by faster than I expected. For whatever reasons, as soon as we got back to our estate in Cranagan, I found myself shuffled from one party to the next. My cousins and relatives seem to all come out of the woodworks at once because, apparently, the fact I had made it into the service (or any other profession for that matter) was a huge customary sign of one's coming of age in our family, and I would do well to expect another party when I was finally commissioned. Of course, since it was my coming of age, my grandmother with deep regret took me along to a Majora Arcana Ball.

It was a themed ballroom party with VIP only invitation and the whole nine yards sent out to the twenty-two major noble families, occurring roughly three times a year, so all the heads could get together to "socialize." Naturally, they brought along their favored "sons and daughters," including those who recently came of age, and would now be given the opportunity to "excel." Here, I became eternally grateful that I was raised to be a man first, a warrior second, a soldier third, and a noble last.

I thought being around one Walon Vau was bad, but I never would have dreamed how suffocating it would be to be in a ballroom hall full to the ceiling of his kind. I do not believe there was a single human being in that ballroom, just "angels and demons" transformed by ideology and ambition to the extreme, masquerading in almost human flesh. Not even the children were spared this fate, as I saw plenty my own age and older, fresh from training or just entering their apprenticeships in their determined profession, had already completed their metamorphosis.

How was it possible these people kept our country, this world, and our colonies on the frontier in check escaped my imagination. I asked Grandmother about the subject and remarked whimsically it was "the harmony of darkness and light." I will have to see about registering for some philosophy and political science classes it seems when I get to Atlas.

In any case, I was just trying to survive through the long boring night, when the Stars decided they were not going to let me have any peace. Being a dispassionate wallflower, unfortunately, seems to get one noticed rather easily; seems I'll need to take a class in basic espionage too. And so the Stars wrote, I was to be made the friend of Nagi Dai Artai, the despot heir of the shamed House of Artai, once of the major arcana "The Devil (XV)", and now reduced to the lowly "The Fool (0)".

"Shame on those flighty fools flirting about, fat with laughter, and drunk with success," he said to me slyly in his mellifluous voice, easily tuned to suit a man or a woman's taste. "They have no idea how insignificant they are, and what a sham this party is."

I gave a noncommittal grunt, hoping the albino boy (handsome by human and near-human standards, though he professes his coloration is an entirely natural by product from the cold hospitality of "The North") would grow disinterested in me.

Wrong, it only encouraged him to speak more thinking he had a listener now, not to mention a colleague the same age as he: "Did you know the House of Ultima, who bear the arcana of 'The World (XXI)', isn't even attending this ball? They are so far away and busy with the Galactic Senate on Coruscant to bother with small fry like us!"

And rightly so, why should they bother with petty "troubles" at home, when they have the galaxy to worry about as our representatives in galactic affairs?

"Ah, how envious. I would love to be able to put my tricks to play on a stage as grand and glorious as that, where all would know my name, and quiver in awe at the Supreme Spirit Emperor who reigns eternally so."

...now **that **got my attention, enough for me to actually stare into those ghastly pale orchid eyes that had been smiling at me the entire time. Through my recent training and my grandfather, I learned enough about the war against the Separatists to know of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's treachery, "Order 66," and his wholly unexpected assassination by his apprentice. Such is the way of the Sith, but it is more amazing that the very same apprentice did not assume the mantle of his master, and disappeared into the shadows of history.

In just five years time, the Force has practically become a fairy tale, supplanted by Magic, with its adepts seemingly gone forever and no masters to teach the latent.

"_Fufufu_, art thou not the progeny o' the returned good admiral?" he entreated me in archaic High Gothic, clearly showing off his "high breeding."

"What does the _Devil _want with the Judgment?" I hissed back none too kindly, but not enough to be rude. I did not want to cause a scene, after all.

"What else, but friendship, Chrono Clyde Harlaown of House Le Fay!" Nagi laughed, bemused by my unpleasant barb apparently. "By our mutual uniforms, you and I are both going to Atlas, you realize (unless you are due for the Clocktower in Britannia)? And how bold, how outrageous will it be for an uncouth boy from the lowest house to befriend he from the second highest, if not arguably the highest house in the land?"

Then, I was suddenly very aware of the stares (and more than a few glares) being shot our way, but I chose not to look. I, honestly, did not want to know who I had just unintentionally insulted by involuntarily sharing my company with the little puck.

"Ah, I see, now you notice them. They have all been waiting patiently all night, crafting their oh-so-sneaky-like little schemes to approach you and gain your confidence. Having the support of the Judgment in the Game of Houses is a rather lucrative, advantageous card, you understand?"

"And you have just gone and ruined all their careful plans by sinking your fangs into me first...how kind of you."

"_Audentes fortuna iuvat_! Fortune favors the bold, Friend Chrono (you do not mind do you, as our fates are already sealed?)."

"_Credo quia absurdum est_... I believe it because it is absurd (I mind, but I am not about to go appease that mob sweetly and innocuously just to regain my neutrality. I have done no wrong)."

Nagi laughed, enjoying our "talk" very much so, "I like you, Heroic Chrono! You're exactly everything I imagined you would be. Let us be good friends, hmm?"

Thus, I was befriended to Nagi Dai Artai, the little emperor: a devil masquerading in human skin. In the coming years, he was to be my friend, my savior, and my rival --- the most annoying, persistent, painful **thorn **in my side. I believe the twisted little bastard might have even been in love with me to be so infatuated that keeping me alive to suffer was much more palatable to his tastes than to just let me...

Die.

* * *

Yuktobania was and still is a very bizarre state as far as the climate is concerned. If you went inland towards the center, along a latitude that is normally a continental temperate climate elsewhere, you would come across the great Jilachi Desert, the biggest "sandbox" you will find in all of Mid-Childa. North of the desert, near the state capital of Cinigrad, the climate turned temperate with all four seasons giving a good show, and further up north, you encountered the deep freeze Arctic climate. Head south and you will find the tropics, covered in jungle, and to the west you find the beaches of the Pacifica Ocean. Otherwise, there the rest of the state sported mountainous terrain: great for hikes, mountain climbing, a breath of fresh air, and a place to disappear off to for a while.

I think it only natural they would have chosen this land to build the Battle School's terrestrial war college, "Atlas, the Giant's Pit", here. My home for the next three years was to be found on the plateaus of Dresdene, a scenic mountainous area full of villages and tourist attractions, including a famous esteemed engineering university. The installation itself was built akin to a modern college town --- civilian contractors, military personnel, their families, and students --- despite obviously being a military base with its extensive security measures. We had everything we could possibly need there, and at its center was the famed Tower of Bavel, a spiraling historic icon built by hands not human long ago, classified as a _Lost Logia_, and forbidden to all comers, save for authorized personnel.

On the morning of Novem the 9th, T.C. 4653, I flew into Atlas Airfield on a military airlift flight: cold, biting, windy, and gloomy thanks to the cloud cover. I was very thankful to my Grandfather then for taking me out in the few moments of spare time I had to go shopping for after market war gear, as my Recruit-issue trenchcoat would have definitely been inadequate for the cold and windy climate out here. Understandably, I was also quite tired, being dragged from party to party had not given me much time to rest, and I ultimately did not get a chance to speak with mother.

She had been quite distressed again to see me leave and it had been a huge fiasco at the spaceport when it came time to see me go. That is, she fainted forcing a bewildered Lieutenant-Commander Onodera, who was still on leave then, to come to her rescue. I resolved to do as I had promised her (she did not honestly have to beg and plead with me to death over it) that I would stay in touch over the HoloNet, not with just the family mind you but to Mister Onodera as well. At the time, I only thought it a queer request, and did not think much of it.

The moment my grandmother began to chuckle behind her fan, I should have known something was up. In any case, they all bid me the best of fortune, and Grandfather remarked he would be joining me in a few days, once he had finished settling affairs in Cranagan. I boarded around 2100 in the evening, got as comfortable as I could in the minimalist seats they provided in the cargo hold, and resolved to sleep the rest of the flight away

You could not imagine my horror at finding Nagi Dai Artai on the same flight as me. The little puck parked himself right beside him, and proceeded to engage me in a two-man comedy act that entertained the other officer candidates and personnel aboard for the flight to no end. It was also the reason, everybody was exhausted by the time we landed, as he single-handedly kept us up all night and morning long.

He was still chatting away in a most chipper manner, as we were handed out complementary MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) for breakfast. And I had to wonder: how in the world did this joker survive Recruit Training? My eyes are so bloodshot right now; I could stomach the thought of giving him a good thump to the face to shut him up.

Of course, that would be childish and make me the fool to his fiddle, and I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of victory. So, I grit my teeth, packed my seabag onto my shoulders, and hauled my suitcase along the tarmac full speed to our waiting (heated) shuttle; Nagi hot on my heels, still Mister Sunshine and Sugar, while the other officer candidates dragged their heels miserably.

You cannot imagine my surprise, when it turned out that I was the only Officer Candidate First Class (distinguished by my silver "the three wings" award insignia occupying the space, above my ribbons and badges, where my future service breast insignia will be) amongst us. The much older boys twelve cycles old and above could not believe their eyes, while the younglings gazed at me with an admiration only matched by the hushed gossip and flighty eyes of the females. I tried my best to hide inside my greatcoat, to mask my reddening cheeks, and ignore the sinking feeling that training from now on was going to be very different from before.

We arrived at the Student Administration building several minutes later, where a lance corporal and a cadre of privates and PFCs (Private First Classes) provided us with instructions. We dropped our things off at a nearby warehouse for temporary storage, and grabbed our critical documents: that is, Service Record Book with our orders inside, and our Medical Record Book that included dental records. And so did our in-processing begin, a formality we would get used to expediently enough, as it would be repeated again when we went to our next school/duty station.

It was a long tedious two hours being juggled back and forth between senior NCOs (noncommissioned officers), NCOs, and medical personnel, creating a paper trail and getting us registered in the system. I was reminded of my days as a recruit all over again, not a pleasant feeling. I wonder if things will get any better once I am commissioned?

Eventually, we were all herded over to the small adjoining auditorium at Student Admin for arguably our most important brief of the day: "Orientation." Our speaker was an aging Gunnery Sergeant, a clone trooper by the fact he wore the scorched and battered phase-II clone trooper armor's breast plate proudly over his utilities, and his distinctive "Concord Dawn" inflection as he spoke to us.

A boisterous greeting, a word of congratulations, and a bluntly put warning to pull our heads out of our "frakholes." Recruit training was over! The bar of expectation and excellence has been raised even higher, and if we were going to be officers, we better damn well start conducting ourselves like officers. For the rest of this week, we will be undergoing "Orientation," wherefore we will be: registering for classes, getting a good talking to by the career counselors, buying books and supplies, moving into our dormitories, getting a tour of "the campus", a brief on student life, your do's an do-nots', and of course, everyone's favorite --- the sorting ceremony, which will be done tonight.

The new semester started next week, at 0700 sharp, with an attendance ceremony on the parade deck at Pantheon Hall. The Headmaster, Archmagus Elminster Aumar, would be giving a speech, so they had better stay awake, unless they wanted to be "Charmed" into the opposite sex or worse, such as a bantha, a snorkak, and a tauntaun for starters. The Archmagus is always looking for an excuse to "spice up the life", and he would be more than happy for us to volunteer by falling asleep.

Blah, blah, blah, blah...

I tuned out whatever else the good Gunnery Sergeant had to say, unfortunately, as a Nagi's devil badgering had done a number on my attention span. Our next speaker soon showed up right after him, and I had a reasonable idea then of just how the rest of this day was going to go. If there was a time to be half-asleep, now would be it.

And I did exactly just that...one eye open and the other eye closed, a rather handy trick I mastered, much to my chagrin from Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau.

* * *

The rest of the week flew by in another blur of activity, but I think we accomplished and learned quite a bit already to prepare us for success. For starters, turns out my class was the biggest Atlas had received yet, adding to the impressive statistics: 26,370 students, of which we had 21,937 undergraduates and 4,071 postgraduates, supervised by 1,304 faculty and a whole slew of support and services personnel. The ages for the undergraduates ran from as young as five cycles of age to the high of twenty-two, with the average graduation between three to four cycles.

I beg your pardon for the statistic, but I found them to be rather fascinating at the time…

Regulations here in one particular area, namely unit organization were much more relaxed than at Dilos Island, without the usual micromanagement into training battalions, companies, and platoons due to the paramilitary environment. Instead, students when first enrolled are sorted out according to present ability and potential into one of three "Class Ranks": Bronzo, Aurum, and Platinum (listed here in increasing precedence/authority). Courtesies and customs we learned from recruit training, the uniform code of military justice, opportunities for promotions, and etc. were all in effect.

In essence, we would learn how to live "the military life," or we would suffer until we figured it out.

I consider myself a rather humble individual, so when the word came to me that I had been chosen the youngest "Platinum - First Year", I was surprised. Before now, I had not a clue on my hidden potential other than I was able and willing, but the honor soon proved to be my dislike. You see...

Nagi Dai Artai, sorted "Aurum - First Year", had also been chosen to be my aide and roommate. Platinums had more duties and obligations to see to, namely a seat in the student council, in exchange for their luxurious accommodations, and, of course, privileges: a personal aide for starters and arguably a necessity to one's success, according to the brief I received.

You bet, he was ecstatic, and even more so, when our career paths turned out to be all but fated.

We both chose the navy, simply because in today's galaxy, the navy did practically everything. Without us, the TSAB Armed Forces would never be able to get anything done. Do not believe what the ground pounders and the airwingers say: "First to Fight and Last to Leave", hah, that is us. Even statistics show, the navy boys and girls are always the first to get shot, and when they do, regrettably, a lot of us end up going down with the ship too.

In any case, he was going to the Judiciary Department under Internal Affairs, while I was going into Special Investigation Offices under the auspices of the Executive Intelligence Department. We shared a lot of the same core curriculum classes in the areas of education (i.e. Honors General Mathematics 1204H), warfighting (i.e. The Art of War 1025), and magic (i.e. Honors General Magic Theory 1304H), meaning I was going to see his face much too often this first trimester. My only relief from him were my electives: home economics and field craft.

Nagi chirpped happily he could not wait to try out my cooking...that devil.

* * *

Life at Atlas was not so bad (other than the terrible shock at my Attendance Ceremony at seeing the dozy young red-skinned Zeltron male beside me be transfigured into a sentient "poop" with eyes and a mouth to voice his horror). School was an all year round affair, granted my class and I missed out on Thanksgiving Break and Winter Break because of our "late" enrollment in Novem. They had to modify our semester so we would be up to speed with everyone else come Martius, take our much deserved vacation, and then come back again in the second week of Aprilis.

Despite being up to my neck in work, trying to stay ahead of the curve, and learn the ropes of my duties as a Platinum, I found myself able to enjoy life. The material I was learning was most fascinating, and by the spring, I would likely be able to wield my first magic device. My instructors were quite pleased with my progress, and my nigh-insatiable desire for knowledge, leading to small practical experiments of my own in an effort to make that knowledge more so a part of me.

The downsides? Since I was so busy, I regrettably could only communicate home once a month, instead of on a weekly basis as I preferred. Grandfather informed me, regretfully, he would not be teaching until the new "school year" in Aprilis; it was also the same time that sithspawned son of a harlot Walon Vau would be showing up too, much to my dread. To add to my headaches, being the youngest Platinum was a source of adversity to no end: the jealousy, the envy, the "playful pranks", and the --- hazing were ridiculous.

It was as if my own peers were out to get me! Me of all people! I have not even done anything to them yet, and they had taken offense right out of the gate. I tried to report the incidents, but to my horror, these very same hooligans were being supported by my fellow Platinums in the Student Disciplinary Committee.

**Corruption **in a school! Outrageous; how absurd! I thought, briefly, about bringing the entire scandal up to the faculty, but then I made a queer connection: corruption spreads and infests. It is an infection, and given enough time, just like a disease, it becomes a chronic epidemic. My experience thus far must have become something to be expected at Atlas, at least amongst its undergraduate students, a "school drama" tradition if you will, not an entirely new phenomenon.

Unlike myself, Nagi Dai Artai thrived in this "wild west" environment: to him, it was just like "the court" back home. He made friends, contacts, and allies quickly, playing the parts of the broker, the informer, and the fool, with such guile and talent he should have won an award. In no time at all, he knew everybody there was to know, ingratiating himself that he became indispensable to his "clients" and could go and do as he pleased with little fear.

As for me...well, I was in self-imposed exile. I refused to swallow my pride and join Nagi's "crowd", despite his constant baiting and pleas that I should make the best of my "unfortunate" situation. After all, without "manpower" and "resources", what could I possibly achieve alone? Following any common sense, he was right.

Problem is, I did not want my friends and comrades to get hurt, especially when I did not have the power yet to protect they whom I would lead. Despite the beasts and vermin around me, I could see that there were "men and women of character", who were just as dissatisfied as I with our ugly conditions. It hurt them to be unable to do anything about the injustice and corruption, to be powerless, but all they could do was grit their teeth and bear with it, wearing a plastic grin. I dared not to contact them until I had attained power and a workable plan to do something about Atlas.

Though evil will only return, inevitably so, how can good men and women stand by idly and watch it thrive before their eyes?

Those were my exact thoughts on New Years Eve...a turning point...and my birthday too.

Winter in Dresdene was understandably a "white festival" affair, meaning lots of snow and cold. Most students had gone home for winter break, but as for my class, we were stuck here for the winter, so there was still a good showing of us to go around. I had only been living here now for two months, and I was quite miserable and disillusioned.

It had been a long day between several written exams, practical application exams, and drinking lots of hot chocolate. I was exhausted, but nevertheless, I trudged through the gentle shower of snow blanketing the base at the dangerous hours of night alone to the post office. Nagi had sent me a message on my PDA, offering to be my escort, but I had politely as I could turned him down: that is, "Go relax with your buddies tonight, Nagi. I do NOT want to see you back in our room until tomorrow evening, since we have the day off for New Years."

Mother said to be expecting a very special package from her today (I have not told her or anyone at home yet about my agonizing lot). Sure enough, a sizeable present wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a white bow was gleefully handed to me by the postman on duty, saying "Have a good one, sir!" I thanked him and curtly left the premises, huddling inside my greatcoat, package in the crook of my arm, and eagerly waiting to be in the relative safety and comfort of my dorm room.

With best intentions, the Stars decided to intervene then. I was on the corner of 8th and 9th, two blocks away from the librarium, when it happened: a scream, but not any scream mind you. The best way I can describe it was a howling banshee, pissed off, ready to rip and tear apart, angry-mad, feminine fury: "You frakking cock sucking bastards!"

I caught a gaggle of shadows and movement, hustling into a nearby alleyway between two building, and could not believe my dumb luck. There were no MPs (Military Police) around, and here I was at the right place, at the wrong time: no back up, unarmed, under trained (I was still working on receiving my Gray Belt certification from the Modern Combatives Martial Arts Program course) and likely, outnumbered badly. Just perfect...

"S'cuse me, sah, but are ya really goin' in there?" a tired voice accented asked me suddenly, as I bent down to set my package down.

Surprised, package forgotten, and instincts taking over, I threw myself forwards into a roll, the layers of snow on the sidewalk cushioning my body comfortably. If there was something I could thank Vau for, it was that he made sure the boys from my training platoon knew how to use the entry level "Green Belt" martial techniques we were taught. I ignored the loss of my cover, and pivoted about on my feet in a fighting stance ready for anything to find...

...a weary old human man, snowy white beard and frizzly hair, bundled up as well as I was, and more than a touch frightened.

"Oi, n-now! Easy, sah, I'm just a by-stander. I gots nothin' ta do with this!"

You can imagine how foolish I felt, but an audible yelp from across the street, accompanied by the sounds of thrashing metal, quickly put things into perspective. I did not have time to waste with this elderly gentleman.

"Sorry, but I have to go. Please, do me a favor, and call for the MPs. The number is..."

"N-Now, wait just a minute 'ere, sah. What's that ugly business o'er there got anything to do wi' you?"

"I beg your pardon?" I gawked at him bewildered. That had to be the most stupid thing I had ever heard!

"Sah, that sort o' things is normal 'round this school. Why bother stickin' y'er nose in w'ere t'ain't wanted? Ye'll be outta 'ere in three ta four years any-way, and it'll start all over. Y'd be wastin' your youth."

There was another loud yelp, joined by more ruckus; it seemed the scuffle was growing more desperate across the street in the darkened alleyway. I had to act soon, or it would be too...

"W'at do ya fancy y'self, sah? Some kind o' ally of justice?" the old fellow prodded me, skeptically.

This really was not the time for philosophical discussions, but I felt compelled to answer him oddly enough, with a smile no less:

"Who the hell do you think I am? I'm no ally of justice. I'm Chrono, the Blue Breaker! Let the lawyers, the judges, and the grubby old politicians worry about who was right and who was wrong later. But right now, because I believe in my own sense of justice, in myself, I must fight!"

Of course, I was just a boy then, so I did not know yet what I was fighting for or who I was fight for exactly; I had not matured enough to be willing to take any kind of side, per say, or fully comprehend what I was doing. I was fighting, perhaps instinctively, for the sake of fighting, and therefore for myself. There was conflict, a challenge to overcome, a situation that had to be resolved because it represented a vicious cycle that had hurt me and also others.

I wanted to break that device, for why would such a cruel thing even be needed? How could so many people succumb to mediocrity just to live their day to day lives in peace, and allow a chosen few to benefit off of this "game", while those who would change it remained suppressed and powerless? Why? I did not understand. I did not know. But these were the least of my concerns, then.

That night, things were going to change drastically for me, and it was all going to start with...

...a girl.

She was to awaken a "curse" that I had, apparently so, inherited from my father (among many other things). An awesome, frightening curse that I would not learn the name of until almost a decade later, when I would meet Verossa Acous who would affectionately dub it...

The _Chrono _Effect.

Others would dub it...

The Harlaown Effect.

The AXE Effect.

The HAREM Effect.

The Mega Playboy Effect.

The "You (Lucky) BASTARD, DIE!!!" Effect.

The "SHIKI TOHNO PHEROMONES, HARVEST HIM AT ONCE!!!" Effect.

The "DIE, YOU ENEMY OF ALL WOMEN!!!" Effect.

And...

Well...

It all started with a girl named Ryuune Zoldark --- destined some day to be famed throughout the galaxy as the White Steel Angel, Valsione.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Hyper fast update a go-go. Entry 1.3 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. And lo, we introduce a big face, the agonies of a military academy, and the coming of the infamous "curse". Sorry, if this turned out to be a lot of exposition again, but if Mai-Otome and Ender's Game can get away with it, then I sure as hell will try. Besides, next episode we'll finally get some plot, action, characterization, and WAFF now that I have finished setting up the premise.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	4. Entry 1 4: The Long Night

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.4:

The Long Night

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Ryuune Zoldark was not your archetypical heroine in distress. In fact, she had already taken down more than half of the "thugs", their muted moans of blissful agony proof of her martial prowess, by the time I got there. Her discarded trenchcoat had been ruthlessly torn up, leaving her at the mercy of the weather, which was none too favorable by her visible shivering. She was a mess: battered and bruised, her knees quivering to sport her weight, her lip split and a wounded above her brow dribbling blood down that was mercifully kept out of her eyes by a hastily tied headband fashioned from the torn sleeve of her blouse.

Of course, her winter uniform's long pleated skirt had been torn off at the thigh, probably by her, so as not to restrict her moves. It was the only I could imagine a female managing to put up a stiff fight in a "gutter brawl", when they were grossly outnumbered. In any case, she had done extraordinarily well considering the circumstances for only the leaders of the pack remained.

Problem is, the four of them were all armed: riot batons (the Stars know where they got those from). Boys between ages twelve and fourteen at least. Not to mention, they were fairly pissed off.

"...Alright...who's...next?" panted the blonde-haired girl between labored breaths, her blue irises gleaming cold as steel.

One of the boys growled, "...You little _schutta_!"

"Can't...hear you! Where's...your **man **voice? C'mon...say it...like...you _actually _got a **pair**, _hut_'_uun_!"

"Keh! Why you...!"

Needless to say, to patronize a male's masculinity and call him a coward hit these boys right where it hurt the most. I would come to learn quickly that Ryuune was very apt in the art of provoking others to violence. Sometimes it was useful, and sometimes quite inconvenient, such as now, where I was still not in position and she provoked the "thugs" already.

Fortunately, a black-haired blue-skinned Chiss, the eldest amongst the boys, his red eyes glowing in the poor light saved me from forcing my hand early. To be able to call off his lieutenants with a mere gesture of his hand, marked him clearly as the leader of this band. If it were not for the circumstances, I might have praised him.

"Tsk, tsk," he tutted with disappointment, "Ryuune, Ryuune...Zoldark. Brash, headstrong, and wholly unapologetic with that spitfire tongue...as expected of a Corellian **rat**."

Ryuune scoffed, "Me? A rat? _Pshhh_...let me guess, that Hapan...what's-its-name...**Io Bebe** sent you, didn't that little freak?"

"...why, yes."

I have never seen a Chiss blush, but I take it the sudden blaze in his fluorescent red eyes must have been the equivalent of a "blush".

"Ugh...Burning skies, balls of fire, and...death sticks! You...do realize...that flamin' fruitcake...is a **GUY**, right?"

"Yes," the boy leader replied unruffled, "however, that does not change you _insulted _Mademoiselle Bebe's vanity. A Bronze disrespecting a Platinum...is a gross breach in proto-"

"Tradition and...protocol my ass! Rules...that only-!"

"Miss Zoldark, your continued resistance places me as a squad leader of the Student Disciplinary Committee in a markedly unsavory position. Platinum Bebe _expects _you tonight, and we will exercise our powers to bring you to _her_."

"_E chu ta_!"

Oh, that's a nasty Huttese curse.

"Now, that was not very _civil_."

"Hah..._wayii_, _ni mirdala dalal_'_ika_?"

Huh? I never heard that phrase before in Mando'a (the language of the Mandalorians, which Vau had taught us a little bit of)... Something about a clever girl?

"_Miss _Zoldark, even if you do defeat my squad, the conclusion is inevitable. The Student Disciplinary Committee will continue to send expendable underlings like us after you, until Platinum Bebe is satisfied. And if _she_ has enough influence, _she _might even be able to borrow the services of the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squads (SEES) headed by the Chair of the Student Disciplinary Committee no less. They _will_ slaughter you as **weak **as you are now."

The threat had the entirely wrong affect on the girl. Ryuune snarled, her blue eyes gleaming dangerously as a feral hiss escaping her lips, "Don't. Look. Down. on _me_..."

"The odds are against you," the Chiss went on, telling a Corellian the phrase you should never speak aloud to them. Was he completely oblivious of his impending doom, or perhaps, this was his trap?

"**And **never..._ever_...tell _me_...the-"

"Better safe, then sorry" was the thought that crossed my mind then when I pounced. I wanted to gather more information, but the situation had gone critical, and had no choice but to act. Fortunately, the Chiss leader boy had conveniently positioned himself behind his lieutenants, who had a formed a line to effectively back Ryuune into a corner in the dead end alleyway. The passage was wide enough for them to rush her all at once, which would amount I imagine to a rather brutal beating.

Wwhen doing battle, seek a quick victory": therefore, it was only natural the Chiss fellow, the commanding officer, was the first to join his men in blissful oblivion.

_KLANG_.

He dropped like a brick, the freshly laid snow softening his fall, and the dent he left in the sheet metal dumpster lid attested that he would not be getting up anytime soon either. Of course, his passing did not go notice, as the remaining three squad members turned whirled about, outrage on their faces only to see me standing over their fallen CO. Maybe it was the curtain of falling snow or the fact I had just knocked out somebody with a dumpster lid, but instead of charging at me right from the get go, they actually paused long enough to shoot me a set of incredulous gaping looks.

"**Hey**, rankweed suckers," I greeted them politely with a smile no less. "Sorry but your CO just got farkled. _**So**_, who wants to find my boot down their bullshit dispenser?"

There was an astonished silence as they absorbed the threat, analyzed the situation, and dialed up the hurtvectors into their laserbrains. I almost hoped they would have the sense to haul jets, saving me the trouble of having to beat the Dark side out of them. After all, with the girl on my back, wearing my coat, and still having to carry my package, it was an awful heel-and-toe express back to my dorm room.

Alas one of the juvies was not firing on all thrusters, and he shouted a mighty battle cry to announce his intentions, coming right at me swinging his baton angrily over his head. It was the stupidest thing he could have done, especially considering his buddies had not joined him for the charge. Sure, with his greater size and height, it would be easy for him to overpower me. I had the advantage of cool discipline and a more "useful" weapon.

_Thwunk_!

"Argh! Flamin' Sith-"

_Ka-thud_.

And down goes another one. It was a simple matter to back step two paces, maintaining my rudimentary stance, wait for the idiot to hop over his CO, let him get his footing, and then intercept his attack with a vicious bash to his arm. Pop goes his baton to the snow, and with a whipping return swing, catching him in the face with the broad flat of dumpster lid again, down he went.

Two down, two to go...

"Well, there goes Captain Obvious. Anyone else up for thirds? or fourths? I think my new best mate here would like a few more honor dents, unless you two want to punch in a _Red Zero_, which I would not mind..."

But it seems these two noobs wanted a piece of me too, at the same time! Of course, fighting two of them simultaneously was out of the question, so I much regrettably expended my best mate into an IFD (Improvised Flying Distraction) to the slimeball coming in from the left. That slowed him down, as he was forced to shield himself, leaving myself and the other turdburgler to go mano-a-turd.

"Go to hell!" he cried, as I bent down digging my gloved hand deep as possible into the piling powdery snow.

"M-R-U!" I returned in kind with the "jolly holiday" spirit. Much regret, unable to do so...

These morons, obviously, were a little slow on the uptake, as this fellow made a mistake in a similar vein to his companion. That is, I still held the advantage of territory, and lo, he came hopping over both the "pacified" forms of his leader and his buddy. I was happy to treat him with a slushy, icy cold desert to the face, distracting him at the crucial moment for me to deliver a kick to his "pride."

He sang like a jawa on fire.

_Thud_.

Oooo...ow. Very effective, I will have to be careful about "low blows" in the future...

Unfortunately, I was a little too caught up in the moment to notice my distraction had worn off on the other fellow. My only warning was a shout from Ryuune, a flicker of movement and rushing air, and the stark realization I had frakked up. The fight had gone better than expected, and I had let it get to my head.

If my opponent had been a fully trained professional, he probably would not have gone in for an amatuerish lunging strike over his fallen comrades. Thanks to that little mistake, instead of clocking me across my grape through my lowered guard and effectively ending the fight there, he caught me in the shoulder with an audible crack. Debilitating pain exploded in my senses, and the momentum of the blow brought me down to my knees.

Either something had broken or I had just received one hell of a nasty bruise, meaning there would be one extra body going to the medica clinic tomorrow. Of course, carrying Ryuune back was going to be much harder now, too, all because of one mistake. The adrenaline rush and shock of pain disoriented me and left my vision seeing wavering out of focus: the silhouette of the older boy towering over me, poised in triumph, and a madly gleaming grin.

The next blow would decide my fate, and I do not believe the concept of "mercy" was anywhere in his navi-computer.

Damn it, what should I do? I came expecting to be doing the saving, and now, I myself am in need of a miracle. Think! Think! There has to be something I can-?

"This is-!" the boy shrieked mad with mania...

_Ffwhp_-_**Klang**_!

...and just like that he went crossed eyed and dropped, too, like a brick, courtesy of a direct hit to the back of the head courtesy of my best mate --- the heroic dumpster lid. Who threw it? You already know.

"...B-By the Stars...and Planets..." Ryuune Zoldark seethed, with heaving breaths, eyeing me with all the disdain she could muster.

Here it comes...

Wait for it...

Take a deep breath and --- go.

"God, you suck!"

Ouch.

There goes my pride, and if I was anymore hot-headed than I was, I might have gotten defensive about it. Bizarrely, I found myself chuckling with a sheepish smile, and admitting the fact to her:

"Yeah, I do."

Ryuune shot me the most incredulous look I had seen to date from another person. She must have not been expecting the "amateurish wannabe-Jedi Knight in White Robes" (an analog of the classic Knight in Shining Armor) to openly admit his incompetence, despite his good intentions of coming to save her. Then again, it was not like she ever asked to be saved. She had been determined to fight all alone long before I got here: what a strong girl.

Laughter.

Astonishing to say that she would be able to laugh, a loud teary-eyed jolly fever, despite having been almost beaten within an inch of her life. I even somehow managed to find the good humor to laugh with her too, considering I had been in a similar position just moments ago. I think it must have been a sign, though I did not realize it then, that Ryuune was not just a strong girl: she had been born to fight and had seen more than enough tough scrapes in the rough and tumble streets of Coronet City.

No wonder she took so well to Mandalorian culture, and eventually, became one of them no less. For now, the blonde-haired girl opted to pass out onto the deck, much to my horror. She went out laughing all the way, face flush with red, and quite deliriously "drunk" on her exploding fever.

And that is how my long night got started...

* * *

I came barreling out of the alley, like a man possessed, into a maelstrom of white and frost. Ryuune was in trouble, Ryuune was on my back bundled up in my greatcoat, and Ryuune was going to die on my watch, unless I could get her indoors ASAP. She had been outdoors in the bitter cold, unprotected for too long thanks to that protracted fight (my mistake), and I had failed to notice the falling temperatures with the steadily increasing volume of snowfall.

Stars, why in the hell did there have to be a freak blizzard now of all times? And, what I am going to do about those idiots in the alleyway too? Granted, they had better shelter than out here in the open, but...

"Sir! Over here!" interjected a loud digitized masculine voice.

Instantly, my vision was drawn through the veil of white upon a cloaked figure waving at me, standing beside a broad silhouette. The headlights gave it away as a vehicle of some sort, and I hauled jets there without a second thought.

"Thank the Stars," I cheered in elation, hurrying past him towards the apparent vehicle, "Quick, man, open the hatch!"

"At once, sir."

The lit interior cabin of the landspeeder was unheated, to my disappointment, with a passenger seating up to eight, short of my needs but I figured I could cram the rest of those idiots in anyways. It would be a battle against time, so it seemed. My plans, however, were derailed when the door hatch hissed shut, just as I made sure Ryuune was secured in her seat, an ordinarily easy feat complicated by her strong shivering and quick, shallow breaths. I was shocked to say the least, but before I could voice any protest, the repulsorlift drives fired up with a hum, and off went the lights.

A sudden lurch that threw me into a seat, and off we went, leaving the scene far behind. A flurry of thoughts ran through my infuriated mind, such as who in the blue blazes was driving this thing? How dare they abandon those cadets just like that? We had to go back, but...

"Sorry, sir. But we cannot delay," a digitized masculine voice squawked over unseen speakers in the pitch black cabin. Strange, his voice sounded exactly identical to the other fellow in the cloak. "Miss Zoldark's symptoms are getting worse."

Could they be?

"Bioscans detect a two degree centigrade drop in her core temperature: classic case of first stage hypothermia."

Droids!

"Identify yourself!" I demanded curtly of my digital savior. It is not like mistrust droids; I just do not trust the person who sent them.

The droid spoke in turn, most cheerfully, "Greetings and salutations, Master Harlaown! I am Father-Five, a valet droid of the FA-series. ETA to your dormitory in ten minutes; traffic conditions are blissfully nonexistent, maximum speed."

"Father-Five, who is your master?"

"My master? Oh, you mean, my owner. I am owned by the Human Resources Department on the corner of Hallsborough Street, build number..."

"Stop." That was not the answer I was looking for at all.

"Yes, sir?"

"Who sent you here?"

"An anonymous request was sent out...oh, pardon me, have you been trained how to treat hypothermia?"

"What the-? Of course, I am; it was part of our first aid training at Dilos Island!"

"Excellent, sir. And you are acquainted with the blanket scenario too, mmm-hmm?"

Wait a second, did the droid just sound --- bemused?

The masculine droid _chuckled_, "Ah, my apologies, sir. I did not mean to tease you. A boy as young as yourself would probably have no idea of such notions, _yet_."

"What in the blazes are you talking about?" I demanded of "him". Personally, I was disturbed for I had never met a droid in my short life with such a well-formed personality. I did not even know they were capable of expressing such genuine --- sentient emotions. Truly, what a marvel of technology...

"That's a conversation for young men, sir. I am afraid I cannot touch into the subject for fear of a lawsuit."

"Huh?!"

"In any case, do not worry for the Disciplinary Committee members back in the alley. They will be taken care of and returned safely to their respective residence halls. In fact, you may just run into each other tomorrow at the general hospital. Oh, and by the way, we have already arranged a replacement for Miss Zoldark's uniform items to be delivered to your dorm room sometime before noon, so you won't have to spend your own money. A trivial detail that ought to make your morning smoother for we have also already delivered your personal affects back to your room too."

I could not believe my ears. How had "they" anticipated such an action from me? No, I am over thinking things. Those actions just now were perfectly logical. Any normal person would think of them, considering Ryuune obviously needed a change of clothes and a medical check up. In fact, I needed one to to be sure nothing terribly important had been broken in my shoulder, and if so, I needed to get it healed fast. I could not afford to wait around and let nature take its course.

"Who are you people?" I asked, even though I knew the droid would not give me a straight answer.

"Just some people who have been intrigued by your actions and words," he replied ambiguously. "Being the youngest Platinum does present a rather unique experience, and for someone of your impressive pedigree, Master Harlaown, we simply could not pass up the opportunity to watch you."

"To watch me?"

"Yes, and we are expecting quite a bit of excitement from you in the months to come... ETA in two minutes; begin deceleration."

There was a "disappointed" moan in the ambient hum of the cabin from the decreasing output of the repulsorlift drives that seemed to echo my own dissatisfaction. I was out of time, and there was no more I could learn of the intrigue that had suddenly landed in my lap. Besides, I had a more pressing concern to worry about right now.

Ryuune Zoldark.

"Apologies, Master Harlaown," the droid apologized to me, as we came to a gradual stop. He was quite "skilled," considering we touched down on the snow covered curb with a ghost of a shudder. "I would have taken you to the emergency room, but my schedule indicates they are..."

The cabin hatch hissed open admitting in a frost blast from outside and blinding light that stung my unprepared eyes, nipping like a curr at my face. I hate to admit it, but inside the unheated cabin had been warmer than outside, for at least we had been sheltered from the elements. My vision returning shortly, and the familiar grandiose ten story apartment condo complex towering above us, I knew play time was over.

"She **will **survive."

The droid chuckled again. I wonder, if it had anticipated --- more accurately --- calculated my response?

"Why, of course. We would not expect any less from you, _Blue Breaker_."

...okay, now **that **was disturbing.

* * *

The accommodations for Platinums was quite luxurious, in the sense of an idyllic bachelor or bachelorette's apartment. Everything was tailored to the needs of the occupants: in my case, I had everything lowered down for the convenience of a young boy. I did not feel like vaulting up onto the counter just to grab a glass out of cupboard meant for an adult's height in my own residence, no matter how temporary it was; besides, we could always readjust everything to accommodate an adult sized guest with a quick spell.

"Lights!" I called out.

The "Room Manager" responded appropriately to my preset preference, bringing on the lights gradually to a dim pleasant haze. The brightness was comparable to candle light, a strange eccentricity of mine that I had become fascinated with before I signed up with the forces. Old fashioned things always managed to peak my interest, as it was akin to experiencing living history; it is by bridging the past with the present do we forge the future, so said Grandfather.

I laid Ryuune down on the couch in the living room, making a slight mental note of my cover and colorful package sitting on the coffee table, before heading off to find the first aid kit. Thanks to a number of disastrous culinary "explosions" I decided to have the handy white-red always sitting on the countertop by the kitchenette. Bacta, gauze, Band-Aids, and vice-versa were all my best friends next to my kitchen knife.

With adrenaline having long since left the building, my injured shoulder was giving me hell. I was sorely tempted to just slap a Bacta patch on the offended area, and hope the miracle drug would sort out the problem, but alas, I was no medical professional in any capacity. Thus, I resolved to suck it up for I would rather not have the injury heal improperly, and with this experience, swore that I would take classes in biological sciences and battlefield medicine. By doing so, I would be allowed to take magic related courses to learn "White Magic Protocol" spells, i.e. Physical Heal for starters.

After all, to suffer an injury like this in battle could prove fatal, not only to myself but to the men and women I will be leading. I would rather have the healer look after them, then waste his or her time on me. Besides, if I know healing spells, it would increase my self-sufficiency and ability to act independently of the troops, not to mention stay in the fight much longer.

But I digress...

Just like Father-Five said, Ryuune had the classic symptoms of first stage hypothermia. By some fortune, her fever was actually helping her recovery process to which I could only aid by providing a salutary environment for her, and adding my own blankets to warm her. Granted, there were more extreme measures I could take, but in the meantime I preferred not to put Walon Vau's lifesaving theories to the test.

From my observations, I think it safe to conclude she was already sick with some ailment before she got into the fight with the boys, hence her fever. Truly, what a girl, though I wish she had the sense not to put herself at such a bravely foolish risk to defend her honor. Thanks to that: her condition had worsened (compounded somewhat by the unheated ride in the landspeeder, though I think my greatcoat had offered some protection), she had a minor concussion, a plethora of bodily injuries --- mostly bruises, methinks, and had caught hypothermia.

Until she regained consciousness, all I could do for her was to continue to monitor her condition (airway, breathing, and circulation) and address the obvious...

Well...

You see...

Err...

I do not believe there is anyway for me to say this without it coming across as voyeuristic or "wrong" in some way. Now I am not going to go into the details, as my limited literary skills would not do her justice, but I believe Ryuune was quite pretty, what with her shoulder-length blonde hair and all. Her recent injuries, in fact, seemed to bring out a kind of majestic warrior woman beauty, combined with her present vulnerability, generated a blooming "cute" effect.

I would learn in later years that the word "_moe_" was a much more apt adjective for this sort of thing. Fortunately, I was at such age wherefore the conundrums of adolescents had yet to strike me, so I was able to brush aside my blushing fascination to get to work. The list was not too long: I needed to check over her head injury, clean off the blood, dispose of her impromptu headband that was soaked with the stuff, do something about the bruise on her left cheek, and that cut on her lip.

Most of it was superficial damage that bacta, alcohol, and sterile patches had no trouble "cleaning up". Her head injury, though, had me worried. There was clear evidence of trauma by the dried blood caking her hair around the affected area, probably from one of the "lieutenants" getting a cheapshot in on her before they all ended up that standoff. The bleeding had long since stopped, but I did not know what else I could do for her besides applying a sterile dressing there, and wait until the morning when we could go see a doc.

Bacta was a miracle drug, but an entry level officer candidate hardly understood its true nature.

With nothing else I can do until my patient was conscious, I examined her one more time just to be sure, even though my instincts told me everything was going to be all right. Breathing, circulation, temperature...yes, she was stabilizing beautifully. The fever could become a problem later, but I would deal with it well enough when the time came.

The best, I can do now is just watch over her, I suppose. The apartment was quiet, save for the ambience between the hum of the climate control system blasting in heat and almost sleep-like breaths of the girl laid out on my couch. Normally, I would be studying round this time of night, before going to bed, but today was different.

The blizzard was still going on outside, a storm of darkness and white akin to a reflection of myself for I had a lot on my mind to think about now. Things had changed tonight, and the world around me would know tomorrow. I had become **involved**, associated with another, and the wolves outside would take notice.

My problems have been multiplied tenfold for tonight was first open act of defiance, before it had only been a kind of passive-aggression on my part, refusing to bow down to them. Tonight, I had intervened in their affairs and helped take down a "hit squad" no less. There would be repercussions, no doubt, just a question of: when, where, and how?

And what was I going to do about Ryuune Zoldark? She certainly could handle herself in a fight to take down eight boys twice her age (at least), but she and I had become accomplices thanks to my good "meddlesome" intentions and pride. There was no way in hell I was going to abandon her to whatever grim fate that awaited her.

But again, the more important question came up: what would be more course of action from here on out? What was my plan? Before I had simply been tolerating the system just barely, but now, I had declared myself an official vigilante this very night. Granted, I was still apart of the Student Council because of my status as a Platinum, but that would not shield me from retaliation. If anything, it would make vengeance all the more swift and sudden.

I needed a plan. The puzzle was right in front me and the pieces were in my hands, but how to arrange them...

Myself.

Ryuune.

The Student Disciplinary Committee.

The Student Council.

SEES.

The unrest and corruption.

Atlas.

Hmm, if I think about it...

_Groan_.

...well, my stomach decided to cut me short, quite spectacularly. I was thankful then to the Stars that I was the only around and conscious to see my laughable blooper. The fight it seemed had made me hungry, and since today was my birthday, I wonder what could be in the package Mother sent me...

A Birthday Cake --- the ice cream kind, along with a postcard.

I felt a strong surge of sweat coming on, and I did not know whether to laugh, cry, scream, or any of the above in some impulsive order. Honestly, Mother: I am in the winter deep freeze of the mountains of north Yuktobania! And you send me an ice cream cake?!

Oh yes, I felt quite pathetic, and lo, I decided to read the enthusiastically decorated postcard:

"H..." scritch-scratch-scritch-scribble! "I mean..." scritch-scribble- scribble-scratch! "Dear..." scritch-scratch-scribble-scribble!

Uh, well, there was an awful lot of scribbling and scratched out pencil marks, pen marks, and, well...

"Mommy misses you very much! And..."

Tear stained marks...

"Eat the cake! It's really, really, really good, so..."

More illegible writing...

"You'd better come home in the spring!"

And...

"Love, Mom."

Needless to say, my mood soured rather badly. Here I was half way around the world in the dead of winter, as far away as possible from my family, while villains and juveniles were out having fun, doing whatever the hell they pleased. And I could not go home because this screwed up "school" decided that I along with my classes needed to play catch up for the new school year. Not only that, I had to fear for my own well-being, and now, another, when I could do nothing for the woman who brought me into this world.

Frell...I need to talk with Grandfather, Grandmother, or even Lieutenant-Commander Onodera about Mother. They would be able to tell me better how she has been doing as of late, truly. I swear, these days I feel more like the age-old parent and she the adolescent child, not that I mind. Responsibility and duty were things I always had a natural inclination towards on an instinctive level, and nowadays, it is truly a second nature for me to take charge and shoulder the burden, thanks to Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau.

In any case, there was an ice cream cake here, I might as well eat some of it. Honestly, the creamy dessert was big enough to feed two people easily for a meal...oohh, Mother was right. This is pretty good stuff: a wonderful creation of traditional cake with ice cream coating the outside and the core. Let's see: cookie dough, burgundy vanilla, and...

_Gong_...

_Gong_...

_Gong_...

Ah, the grandfather clock... It always rings at midnight, which would mean...

"Happy Birthday to Me, and a Happy New Year to all," I murmured.

Tears?

Ugh, I am such a softie. Six cycles old or not, I had sold my life to the Bureau. I should have already been prepared for long, lonesome nights like this... Hell, I should be happy that at least nobody out there was raining artillery on my position, and trying to sneak in "gutter runners" in the middle of the night to slit my throat, while I slept in my CP bunker.

But even so, it is "okay" for a soldier to cry some time, right?

My solemn contemplations, however, were broken by a sudden string of coughs. Quickly, I composed myself (mustn't show weakness) and gazed across the coffee table to see my "patient" coming to at last. I could not help but smile a little with my greeting:

"Welcome back, Zoldark."

"Ugh...wh-where?" she rasped, her hazy eyes fumbling around for a point of reference.

"You are as safe as can be amongst colleagues and accomplices."

"_N_'_ju-jur_..._kad na_..."

"_Gedet_'_ye_, I am not messing with you. You are safe. And please, do not try to get up yet," I admonished her playfully. "Took me a lot of work to get you up here and I have been watching over you ever since... Honestly, how reckless can you be?"

"_Keh_...wh-who...are you?" Ryuune snorted dryly.

"Nobody special. Harlaown, Chrono Harlaown. Now, what do you want first: water or ice cream?"

Looking back, I think my bedside manner needed a lot of work, but according to Acous, my execution was perfect and had earned me "massive affection points". Apparently, the "Tomboy/Tomcat/Flapper Girl/Warrior Woman/Xena" types love few things more than a man so "badass" that he can patch them up, get them back in the fight, and still have time to offer them ice cream on the side. Never mind my half-assed execution of saving her "bacon" earlier for there would be plenty of opportunities later to make up for it, especially in our profession.

"Water...then...ice cream, _gedet_'_ye_," she, apparently, flushed.

And little did I know, it was not her fever "talking." I hate it when he is so damned right.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.4 in all of its glory. Chapters should not be getting much bigger than this; my apologies if it was longish. I think I got carried away in the moment writing this labor of joy. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas.

As for those of y'all wondering where I got Ryuune Zoldark from, she hails from Banpresto's Super Robot Wars Original Generations. She pretty much has the exclusive honor of piloting the only super robot that was made in the shape of a girl (arguably to appeal to her tastes), complete with artificial muscles in the face so it could express various facial expressions. The only other femme mecha that come close at this time in the Original Generation universe are SMSC Angelg and the XAM-007 Fairlion.

You can already play the two localized GBA games Super Robot Wars Original Generation 1 and 2 (both done by Atlus, so you might have some trouble tracking them down unless you hunt for the ROMs instead), if you are more interested to learn about her and SRW in general. Also, the OVA and TV series Super Robot Wars Original Generation Divine Wars has been licensed, so you can look forward to that too in due time.

On the subject of the alien curses and/or foreign phrases, I recommend Wookiepedia for your needs.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 15 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	5. Entry 1 5: BAMCIS

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.5:

The Keyword is BAMCIS

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Nothing else major happened after those few words we exchanged with one another. I fed Ryuune and put her to bed, which was quite the trial as she riled up a storm of feminine fury, and curses to make a Mandalorian blush, in protest of my "chauvinistic" actions. Personally, I have no idea where the girl gets her surprising energy from, and her equally "crazy" notions. For the love decency, she was still sick and had just recovered from a case of hypothermia, and now, she wants to have a row over being treated with "delicate" care?

Stars, I cannot imagine wounded troopers and mages on the field complaining to a combat medic or healer about the lifesaving medical care they are receiving! How is what I am doing any different?

Nevertheless, morning arrived surely as daybreak at 0645, with the first rays of red and orange blasting against the curtains. I had chosen to remain steadfast the entire night in my watch over my patient, using once again Vau's "half-sleep" technique --- one eye opened, one eye closed. It was not the best "sleep" in the galaxy, but resting half of your brain was better than nothing. Of course, you do not want to be forced to use the said technique for too long, as it tends to sour your mood and make you extremely irritable.

Apparently so, four hours was my limit (thanks to the fact I can actually get a full night's sleep nowadays), which was why I nearly choked the promethium fuel out of Nagi Dai Artai, whom appeared in my hazy field of vision with a classical:

"BOO!"

Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau's training from hell took over in an instant, as I exploded into motion, rising with an impromptu headbutt to the pale boy's chin. You see, the sergeant major actively encouraged recruits to "assassinate" the squad leaders and the guide; the "easiest" way, arguably, to get a promotion to the said steed, no questions asked. Hence, why I mastered "half-sleep" technique and why I rarely got a full night's sleep back at Dilos Island.

In any case, the attack came as a complete surprise to Nagi, a snapshot of his eyes going wide vaguely crossing my mind. By his good fortune, he had been grinning when I struck him. Therefore, he was spared from potentially biting off his devilish honeyed tongue from which I extracted a muffled pained grunt from his throat, but alas, his punishment was not over yet.

Off balance and vulnerable, I lunged for his shoulders, hands sinking in like claws, and brought him down for a quick set of debilitating knee strikes to the torso. "One, two, three: _Vode an_!" was the ditty the sergeant major made us memorize for this particular maneuver, and suffice to say, I had forcibly expelled the will and the air out of the poor puck's body with extreme prejudice. However, I still was not finished because the whole point of the knee strikes was to drop my opponent, so I could sidestep around him, maintaining good fighting stance, then shoot my arm around his throat, complete the cross, cheek to the back of his head, and apply pressure to carotid arteries with my bicep and forearm.

If he had not used the old "safety gesture" from Recruit Training, that is slapping your partner in the thigh repeatedly, we both would have been in deep _shavit_, most likely. I could be facing a general court martial and he a date with the Stars. Needless to say, I released him as if he were burning hot cooking oil, leaving him in peace to wheeze, cough, and hack for the air and blood flow I had deprived him of, which was how Ryuune found us when she woke up amidst the commotion.

You cannot imagine my embarrassment then at my hair trigger "Kill first, ask questions later" reflex. Vau be damned for "brainwashing" me so thoroughly.

The blonde-haired girl shot me an expression that I would later in life come to know of as "The Look." It is an universal feminine feat that, apparently, grants females the capability to convey concepts to males that would otherwise prove inadequately worded in common vernacular. I will attempt to transliterate what she "said", but bear with me if it is sub-par:

"Eehhh, wassup, doc?"

"Who's the anorexic pale pretty prince frat bugger?"

"Why did you just choke the frak out of White Swan?"

"Are you retarded, jaboroni?"

"Say, '_Yes_, _ma_'_am_.'"

"But that was a pretty good back choke, who taught you?"

"Can you tutor me?"

"Nah, just kiddin'."

"Could you run through the entire thing again in slow motion?"

"Please?"

The rush of red to my cheeks, alas, was no illusion, and I humbly bowed out, murmuring a pleasantry, before grabbing Nagi, and hauling jets for the front door at top speed. The Fool and I were going to have a nice long "chat" the relative privacy of the hallway, _outside _our dorm room. There was no way I was going to have a heart to heart with this joker when Ryuune was in hearing range of him. The Stars only know what kind of mischief he would start with his mercury quicksilver tongue.

Now, despite of having his exhaust handed to him, Nagi proved his unpredictable resilience as ever.

He **laughed**, gut busting, side splitting, mirth and hilarity, the moment I made to scold him. Naturally, I was stunned. How in the blazes does a man who nearly experienced death have the nerve to make so light of it? I could have killed him!

"_AH_-_hahaha_! Ha...oh...y-you..._ahahahahah_!" the pale boy pointed at me, shakily, from where he sat on the floor. His eyes glinting with a hysterical madness I could not comprehend.

It unnerved me, honestly. "Nagi...what are you-?"

"You...you! You should have...hah..._seen _the look on your face, _AH_-_hahahaha_!"

"H-Huh?" Has he gone mad? Wait, was he not mad already to begin with?

"H-Heroic Chr-Chrono! Hah...em-**embarrassed **because he _almost _killed a man! _Ahaha_...superb, _genius_... Ah-haha!"

O-kay... I believe, that statement confirms my suspicions. The Fool must be mad.

"Nagi," I chided him gently, like a doctor prodding a rabid dog with a ten-foot cattleprod, "Are you sure you have not lost any important brain functions from asphyxiation?"

"_Is Quisnam --- Protero --- Damno_, ah-ahahahah!"

'He who ignores pain'? What is he going on about now?

"Don't you know?" Nagi smiled, eerily, at me. "Laughter is the...hahahha..._best_ medicine for pain? _Laugh_ and grow fat, ah-hahaha!"

Seeing as I was not getting through to him, I conceded my defeat with a sign, and simply waited for the little emperor to get over his hysteria. Note to self: choking eccentric people was a bad idea. The lack of oxygen only makes their warped minds a little sicker than normal, complicating their gross megalomania to levels that push the edge of sentient comprehension. Also, another note: must curb my violent tendencies, just because people are pulling a cheap prank on me does not mean I have the right to use my training to otherwise "immobilize" them with deadly force.

To my relief, Nagi calmed down, his mania receding back from wherever it sprang from, but his near ever present puck's smile had returned in its place:

"My, my, Heroic Chrono! You should have told me you were having company, honestly."

Ugh, there he goes again with the Heroic Chrono nonsense.

"And you are not supposed to be back until the evening," I deadpanned.

"When you meant not for my return in the evening, I could only surmise you would be lonely, so I flew to your side first thing in the morning. _Aahh_, I feel so cheated; I thought **I **was the only one who had a special place in your _heart_!"

...yes, suffice to say, that statement just now made me cringe.

"Oh my, what a face! You are _such _a delight to tease, My Chrono, _fufufu_."

"_Ad astra per alia Hutt _(to the stars on the wings of a Hutt)," I frowned, messaging my temples. Ugh, I hate these "mind games" he liked to play with me all too often. A devil in the skin of a fool, wonderful... He is so histrionic.

"Uh-uh-ah! You must not frown, Heroic Chrono. Besides, you should be proud of yourself! I am quite astonished at how quickly you are immortalizing yourself in fame **and **infamy. Last night was quite a piece of work, and on top of that, you brought a girl home with you! That is fantastic: your growth, your maturity is beyond my expectations! I did not think you would notice the fairer sex unless I had to bite you in the-"

"**Nagi**, do not patronize-wait a second... Last night-!"

The Fool grinned broadly, like a kaath hound gloating at its prey, "A hit squad, twelve underlings from the Student Disciplinary Committee, not a bad start if I should say so myself."

How did he find out?

"My eyes and ears are everywhere, Heroic Chrono. There is nothing this _fool _does not know. Hence, I know the girl in there is none other than the infamous Ryuune Zoldark too, quite the _tom__cat _you brought home too, _rawr_. So, have you _tamed_ the shrew, yet?"

For various reasons, I discovered myself to be rather _angry_ at the little fop's insinuations. I think the phrase, '_once a Devil, always a Devil_,' seemed appropriate for the occasion.

"Dear me, that's a handsome shade of scarlet you are turning! Wonderful. Excellent. Good, good, good! So tell me: have you decided to embark upon _the path of carnage_? To immortalize yourself in **Legend** over the bodies of your enemies, crush them, see them driven before you, hear the lamentations of their women, and the _cries_ of the children?"

Again, the familiar mad gleam seeped into those pale orchid irises, like blood to water. I never did like talking with Nagi, much less being in his company, beyond pleasantries. Ambition; too much ambition, there were schemes on top of masterminds turning, twisting, maturing, and dying every moment in those ghastly eyes of his. He fooled others easily enough, and he certain could fool me too, but only to me (for whatever reasons), did he expose the full depth and breadth of the vile venom.

"Have you? Have you, yes? Why, of course you have! Why else would you have helped send twelve no-bodies to the hospital last night over a girl, and declare yourself the enemy of the powers that be here, though you be hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched? As expected of the **man** I hail '_Heroic_'."

And I loathed him for it.

"Nagi, you are insane."

"Ahahaha, good one, Heroic Chrono! This be but a trifle to a clever puck such as I, and I would be willing to lend my services to _thee_."

Ugh, hate to admit it but I needed information. After all, the little puck was right, I had declared war effectively last night. I had to win this fight as quickly as possible, but how to do so? "...tsk, talk."

"Why, thank ye, kindly!" he hopped up to his feet. If he had ears and a tail then, I would have easily mistaken him for a dog, tail wagging happily, and his "innocent" eyes bright with enthusiasm at being needed by his "master."

"The keyword is: BAMCIS," I recited to him, plainly, an old ditty from Recruit Training. Begin the planning, arrange the recon, make the recon, complete the planning, issue the order, supervise...

"Ah-haha! Been there, done that, Heroic Chrono. A Fool is no good if he cannot read the needs of his patrons!"

"Have you, now?"

"Of course, and 'tis so wonderfully simple and elegant: the Student Disciplinary Committee. Destroy the iron fist of the Student Council, crown thyself the strongest Judge, and they will be utterly powerless until they can _remove _you from office."

"And how would I go about doing that? I am just one man, remember?"

"Simple, simple, simple! SEES is the key."

"The Special Extracurricular Execution Squad?"

"They are the pride and fury of the Committee. Defeat their champion in a duel, under the oath of honor, _of course_, tying their hands, so that the current Judge would have no choice to appoint you the new Judge of the Student Disciplinary Committee."

Straightforward, simple, and easier said than done; my kind of plan, is it? Damn Nagi and Ockham's Razor.

"And who would I have to fight to do that?" I asked him, grudgingly, earning a sweet smile in return. It appears I am utterly transparent before his "beautiful" mind. "And what is so special about SEES?"

"The latter is all too easy, they are the only ones permitted to use magical devices, that is mass-produced weapon devices sanctioned by the MPs and the Headmaster, to enforce public order. It is no big secret that students, behind closed doors and beyond supervision, like to have a little _fun_ with their new _toys_ to prove one's prowess and genius."

"Which means?"

"Think of them as your SWAT team and the regular underlings as uniformed police officers. Simple enough, yes?"

"Right."

"And their strongest sword right now is a Wookie by the name of-!"

"**Stop**," I cut him off, my tone suddenly frosty cold.

In fact, it was so sudden, even I was surprised by my own reaction. I do not think I reacted out of fear, granted there are plenty of reasons to be afraid of a Wookie. We are talking about a big walking primal engine of destruction, well, make that an admittedly hairy engine of destruction. Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau (by the stars, I have to stop thinking about that wretched man by his full title of address, boot camp-style) had wasted no expense educating us about some of the deadly alien warriors of the galaxy. The Wookies, in particular, fascinated him: for such a primitive people, they were surprisingly capable warriors, and it did not hurt they had a bountiful lifespan of **six hundred cycles** on average.

It was an awful long frakking time to live by his standards, but I digress. Yes, I believe Nagi just informed me that I will be fighting a Wookie. However, it is not just any Wookie mind you, but a Wookie who has gone through the same training I have, and he (or she) possess the same in-born talent as I: magic.

Please, please, tell me I heard him wrong.

Alas, my mask of control had slipped grossly, letting the pale little emperor see my displeasure as plain as day. He grinned brightly, happy as a cat high on nip, and out came a dreadful taunt in a sing-a-song tone:

"My, my, have I found the first Goliath to make David tremble?"

"Never mind, tell me more about this fellow," I waved him off, composing myself with a strong front once more.

"Czerbahzacca's his name, Bronzo First Year about to be promoted to Aurum when his second year begins in the new fiscal school year this Apirilis. Quite the handsome fellow, _shaved_ from head to toe because he wanted to wear the uniform that badly, and he is easily three times taller than you. Loves the Model 4760 Power Belt weapon device they gave him, thinks its the best thing since _bacta_."

"The M4760 Power Belt?"

"A complete offensive and defensive package, generates a trans-active force field that protects the wearer against ranged and close range attacks, and also augments the wearer's physical strikes. Perfect for a Wookie in a street brawl, see?"

Wonderful, perhaps I should give Nagi more credit for his intelligence gathering skills, proving I would never cut out to be a good "social spy", at least not in the circles he traveled. Then again, espionage was not something I was fond of to begin with, as it was an unpleasant business that walked the knife edge between reality and fiction. Leave it to the spooks and gamblers to play their spy games, I will stick to my battlefield, which brings us to my next concern.

"Right, and how much do I owe you for this?" I asked him. Disciplined and courageous I was, surely, but I would prefer on passing being made the fool. Information from the likes of the Fool was not free.

Nagi grinned, "Good, good, good! Your instincts are superb."

"Save the flattery for someone who cares, Nagi."

"Oooo, so feisty, _rawr_, a-hahaha..."

This was but the first of many times we will play this particular **game**...

"Nothing: not a credit, not a favor. Free of charge! All I _ask_ is that you continue to pursue Ryuune Zoldark: befriend her, nurture her, protect her, tame her, gain her, possess her --- _pfftt_-aha-hahaha! --- whatever pleases your whim and **heart**. But! Whatever you do, you mustn't abandon her, _yes_?"

...and I regret to say, I have yet to beat him.

"W-wh-What?" I stammered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. Frankly, I was taken a back by his rather bold (and somewhat, unsavory) proposition. What in the Stars was he asking me to do? And why such a thing?

The Fool chuckled, gazing at me with a sly sidelong glance, "Don't disappoint me now, friend. You continue to show such promise, the ideal foil to my own character. You are a natural, Heroic Chrono! 'Tis as if you were born to be here in this moment with me, and I am content to say I have not been proven wrong yet in _choosing _you. After all for any epic to be remembered for all time, it requires a _fantastic _**hero**."

...What in the Galaxy? I, a cadet who has hardly lived six cycles was a hero in some epic tale, and I was his foil? Stars and flying Jawas, I think he truly is insane!

"Oh, look at the time!" he cried suddenly, flashing his PDA in my face, "Oh, my, me; we are wasting time, my friend. You have got a beautiful day ahead of you with the lovely catty Miss Ryuune Zoldark, and I have got work to do, busy work, lots of work to arrange a reconnaissance for you. You **do**, at least, want to see those boys and girls from SEES in action, before making your duel official, yes? And, oh, I could give you some pointers to give you a head start with the Flapper Girl, but that would spoil the fun and absurdities of a relationship, and would cost you more than you can afford right now, so I will have to decline."

I stared, deadpanned at Nagi. I wondered, honestly, who was the "_exotikz and delicaxyz_" dealer that had sold the despot son of Artai some luna-weed this morning, before he came to "wake" me. If I managed to track down that fellow sometime this year, I would love to introduce my boot to his exhaust port, for eroding my sanity.

"_Ciao_ and _carpe diem_, Heroic Chrono!"

With the parting shot of a bombastic blown kiss that immediately drew a cringe out of me, the Fool skipped away, giddy as a bright-eyed child at a festival. If he were wearing a skirt, he would have flaunted it too, in grand drag and dramatic style. Lo, did my distaste for him grow, but I had to admit it, he was good at his job.

In any case, I suppose I should go check up on...wow, when did this package get here? _How_ did it get here without myself or Nagi noticing? An oily sense of revulsion crept up my back with a shiver, as I was gripped with a sudden outbreak of paranoia. Checking my military left and right, and up just to be safe, I discovered that I was alone in the hallway and a not soul was stirring, save for the casual ambience of the air ducts keeping the air pleasantly warm.

The package was further proof of the conspiracy at hand, that there were indeed some ancient powerful folk above, observing me with interest. Was it possible everything that has happened thus far was planned from the start? I could not deny the possibility, but why me? Was it my family's history, our legacy that prompted such a response? I doubt, most people knew, which families comprised the Major Arcana, and generally, by custom, we did not advertise our standing to the public for the sake of national security and personal safety.

A fine mystery for me to uncover in due time, before now, I must get these change of clothes to Ryuune. It would not do to have her walk out in the street, without her own winter coat, and a serviceable uniform, granted there was no uniform of the day for today because of the holiday. I could offer her my civilian clothing, but the results could prove rather awkward, as by my reckoning, she was a good head or two taller than myself.

In any case, I was about to learn my first of many lessons in "Men are from Mars, Women are from Athena". I like to call this particular case, "File #2: Knock before Entering - if it applies to officers and SNCOs offices, you bet your bronzium it applies to the Athena too. Never mind it is your own abode because the Athena's presence in the vicinity, automatically signifies her ownership of the _territory_."

I entered back into the apartment suite, heading straight to the living room where I last left my guest. I think she should have heard about two warning signs of my intrusion: namely, the door hissing open and sliding shut, and my own greeting informing her:

"Zoldark, my order for your replacement uniform items, rush shipping, just came...in..."

My jaw went **slack**.

It was an extremely...

Definitely...

Absolutely...

One hundred percent...

...awkward moment.

I will tell you, humbly and remorsefully right now, this was but the first of many, many, **many** times I would walk into a female in the process of dress or undress (in this case, the latter), and of course, the buff (honestly much too often for my tastes). Two blue oceans met one another, of night and day, eliciting an electric paralysis that struck me dumb, helpless to the roots of my hair.

There was Ryuune Zoldark, pretty (not yet beautiful, but give her another, oh, six to ten cycles and I promise you, you will be blown away), bent over in the buff, her bodyline positively glowing from the dusky light filtering into the apartment. The last tantalizing article of, well, you-know-what was about to be slipped off, and the heart throbbing blush on her cheeks; I believe, Acous (he is an amazingly gifted artist, by the way), sketched this moment best as - "The Warrior Maiden at Pure Dawn".

As for myself, I was speechless and dumb. I probably would have stayed like that forever, if my body had not directed me to the sudden burning pained sensation in my nose, causing me reflexively to reach up...

...a nosebleed...

...why in the Stars had a blood vessel in my nasal cavities ruptured?! What manner of martial skill was this? Or what I had experienced just now was the work of magic?

"...C...C..Chr..._Chrono_...!" grated a familiar spitfire _spinto soprano_ that belonged to the dominant female in my perimeter. Another skill I am proud of, thanks regrettably so once more to Walon Vau's influence, is my knack for sensing "black emotions," and in this particular case, **hostility** with the intent to cause bodily harm.

Ryuune Zoldark was pissed off.

"Uh, well, erm-WHOA!" I ducked just in time to dodge a pair of airborne boots, where they made a grudging thwack! in the foyer behind me soon after.

"PERVERT!" she was already winding up with a new improvised flying missile.

I dropped the package, holding my arms out in front to censor my own vision of her unmentionables. It was my aspiration to conduct a hasty retreat in an orderly, dignified fashion, while under fire from anything the rampaging female could get her hands on to defend her indignant vanity:

"I'm getting out, I'm getting-doh! I'll...argh!...be...oof!...outside if you...ow!...need me!"

"GET OUT!"

_Klam_!

I winced as the door to my apartment shuddered from the impact. Whatever, she threw just now, must have been big and possibly expensive. ...I hope they do not bill me for the damage to the furniture and vice versa.

* * *

The thirty minute "hike" to the nearby _medica _clinic was unpleasant, to say the least. It took me a lot of reasoning and soothing to convince Ryuune, about an hour of "intelligent screaming" that earned me a few looks and snickers from civilian janitors passing by, to let me back into the apartment, which was understandably in disarray. Thankfully, she was the type of warrior woman who preferred to be productive with her anger, so it did not take much to convince her to join me for a check up with a doc.

I needed one; she needed one, much more than me; and bacta would probably do us a world of good. Problem is, she was still angry. Therefore, Ryuune found it justified to force march us there at full speed, trudging straight through the snow covered sidewalks (though the roads were pretty clear but I did not fancy being run over by a truck or a landspeeder, mind you), with a vengeance. Repeatedly, I pleaded caution to her, and repeatedly, she ignored me and went faster. I was amazed at how well she negotiated the terrain despite being ankle deep in snow, and her recent near-fatal illness, that made me worry all the more.

Come to think of it, it was almost as if she was trying to leave me behind, because every time I managed to catch up with her, the blonde-haired girl would hurl an infuriated growl at me, before taking off again. From the bright side, we certainly got there faster than we should have, considering the poor terrain. Unfortunately, we have not eaten breakfast yet, factor in our "high performance" bodies, and the result was a pair of loudly protesting stomachs.

I was going to suggest that I should, at least, go grab something from the vending machine for both of us, but as Ryuune was still in passive-aggressive "Do NOT give me a reason to frak you up" mode, she ignored me again. Ever the hard charger, she marched in, feigning politeness as best as she could to the receptionist droid despite her impulse no doubt to rip the poor thing's head off, to set up an appointment for both us. We were in luck, as the two doc droids were free as can be this morning, but I cannot deny I felt a bit ill around the droids.

Before I would never have suspected a thing about them. It was humans and other sentient beings that worried me, but after last night, even droids perked that sense of paranoia in me. Granted, even given intelligence, they rarely acted outside the bounds of their meta-programming, but it was that same programming that worried me so, because who was to say they did not have less than benign intentions. Not to mention, how were you supposed to tell a droid was lying?

I got off easy: nasty, big bruise on my shoulder and a microfracture in the bone beneath. Apparently, I had not been hit too hard, and the doc droid gave me what I needed, a bacta patch and ingestible bactade, along with a recommendation not to put my affected shoulder under heavy duress for twenty-four hours. Oh, and please, get something to eat, "he" (masculine programming, you see) added, as according to his biosensors, I was positively famished. I won't begrudge him for that, considering he was right and I agree whole-heartedly.

Now, the problem was what happened next... Turns out, I got done first, so here I was in the lobby lounging idly on a seat, waiting for Ryuune; I am hungry; there is a vending machine right there, but it does not sell anything in the way of solid food. What I got was coffee, a variety of popular soft drinks, and dairy-based drinks. Of course, I could settle for something to tide my stomach over and wash out the chalky aftertaste left in my mouth from the bactade.

Problem: I do not know what to get for my spitfire tomcat companion, who was in a decidedly sour mood, and was three degrees short of making me eat yellow snow. So I tried to put myself in her shoes to see what she would like, unfortunately I also came to a rather dreadful conclusion... I knew next to nothing about Ryuune Zoldark. All I had to run by was with the few facets of her personality I had seen --- gruff and curt, from quiet storm to exploding thermal detonator when angry, determined perhaps to a fault, bold and proud, knows how to handle herself in a fight...

_Cute_, in a kind of "violent and in denial" way... Who would have thought she would kick up such a fuss over being seen practically naked? Granted, to my understanding, it is the normal conservative action for females to take against males of their species. Of course, if we were normal children, we would not have been taught this yet, but considering we were all little _men _and _women_... Hmm, I wonder, what did that Chiss mean last night when he called her a "**Corellian Rat**"?

...wait a second, where did that unwanted digress of thought come from? I do not even know what qualitatively defines "cute" or how to define "cute"! It sounds like something Mother, Grandmother, or Nagi would say.

Confused and defeated, I settled for something conservative:

"Sheyher's Symphony Delight --- Have you found the Chocolate in you?"

Slogans aside, the taste left me...well, my standards are pretty low as far as consumables go after acclimating myself to field rations and MREs. If I can stomach that, I can eat just about anything that has nutritional value, at least that was the confidence imparted into me by the hellish training I received. In any case, I think it ought to serve as a viable bargaining chip to soothe Ryuune Zoldark's "Galactic Fury."

Speak of the Fates, here she comes now and, oh my, that sickly sweet fragrance...! No doubt about it; she took a good long soak in the bacta tank, and incredibly, she was even more riled up than when I left her. I suppose, my new blonde-haired companion had her own eccentric sense of vanity...or was she still just pissed at me?

Well, no time like the present to find out, I think, so I greeted amiably enough in Mando style:

"_Su_'_cuy, burc_'_ya_!"

Still alive, buddy?

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.5 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. Can't say I am too proud of it with its Tom Clancy-ish military planning and exposition, but ya know, you got to have some solid intel and a good plan before you decide to go _hi-yaka_! on the world.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 16 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

And before I go, props to anybody who figures out the homage to a certain chocolate company.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	6. Entry 1 6: The Man Voice

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.6:

If you're going to say it, then say it with your **MAN** voice!

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

"_Su_'_cuy, burc_'_ya_!"

Still alive, buddy?

To my surprise, Ryuune stopped dead in her tracks, her bright blue eyes wide with shock. She was so stunned; she forgot to catch the unopened bottle of "chocolatety delight" I had tossed to her.

"Wha...ack!" the blonde-haired girl recovered hastily from the mild impact, almost fumbling her catch. A flush of red blossomed across her embarrassed gawking face before my eyes, and I had to resist the strong urge to snicker. I have no idea why exactly I found the moment humorous, but it must have something to do with the discrepancy between the strong, tough girl image I had of Ryuune and her now very much vulnerable reaction.

Suffice to say, it did not take her long for her shoot off the mother of all questions at the time:

"Wh-What the frak are you still doing here?"

Unfortunately, I had not a clue just how important that question was to a girl like Ryuune Zoldark. Yes, things did work out all right in the long run, yet I cannot help but feel guilty at my own youth back then. There must have been a better way to handle the situation, and my response to this day still wounds me so:

"What is the matter? You did not expect me to just run away and abandon you now, did you?"

The air suddenly turned deadly cold.

"Y'know, there are four kinds of people I really hate in this universe: liars, traitors, cowards, and weaklings. So, tell me, _Platinum Bouya_..." she spat the word with indignant disgust, "what **kind **are you?"

I was taken a back, shocked. All good sense and reasoning gone, swept away by just that powerful statement; I do not think I was angry or insulted, except I... Well, I wanted to defend myself, to explain myself, and to make amends. I had not done anything wrong, at consciously in my opinion, so why did I warrant such --- such a thing. It was an unfair, unreasonable...?

I stood up in that whirling haze of emotion; biggest mistake I could have made in the situation. As young as I was at the time, I should have noticed the signs (so much for my talk about my good "danger" instincts). Come to think of it, I do not think I ever managed to top Ryuune in a straight up fist...

_Fwh_-_**thwip**_!

The brutal blow struck me from the side to my temple. She had used the bottle as a makeshift club, powering it amazingly with enough force to break the plastic, as my hearing "blew out" in sudden flood of white noise and a pitched ringing whine. I felt like a concussion grenade had just gone off, such was the shock that I lost all strength in my limbs. The milky brown sugary contents of the bottle came splattering out, too, to blind me to add to my troubles.

I think I saw her lips move to say something before I lost sight of her, but bear with me as my memory here is rather faulty, as the shock of the impact had done something to my left temporal lobe. Of course, I could not hear a damn thing, the world turning in slow motion, but something unexpectedly came through my linker core's telepathic channel. Funny, I thought I had shielded it plenty well against "intrusion" for it was one of the few aspects of magic we learned and we were evaluated on back on Dilos Island.

"People like you...people like _you _don't deserve to say words like that. _Burc_'_ya_..._che_, don't frak with me. Go die alone in your own shithole."

I hit the deck like a corpse, helpless and numb...

"_Usen_'_ye_, asshole."

...and the world turned black.

* * *

Somehow, I should not have been surprised to see **him**, when I returned to the land of the living and pain. Alas, that did not stop me from delivering a whipping backfist to his jaw; I, honestly, need to do something about my "if you are less than one arm's length away from me when I wake up, you are gonna get farkled!" reflex. The Fool doubled back over, like an acrobat, into a heap (I did not hit him that hard did I?), and I probably would have gone after him, if my splitting headache and the rush of blood flow did not restrict me to the clinic's hospital bed.

Lo, did Nagi Dai Artai laugh.

Obnoxious, mocking, loud, and annoying: it was the perfect combination of noise to worsen my symptoms. In fact, it was so sinfully perfect; I actually lashed out loud in outrage:

"Will you shut your flaming piehole up? Two minutes! Two minutes! And I'll shut it for you with my boot, if it is too bloody flaming fruity frakking wide cock loving for you!"

Lo, did the pale fairy emperor little prick ass punk bastard bugger laugh **harder**.

...I swear, he must have come from the Drunken Jumped-up Corellian Dirt Farmer School of Instruction Overdrive, that is "laughing in the face of _Clear and Present Danger_ and Pain" is the way to go. Say, why was I so angry at the time anyways? I usually never lash out in open anger. I have come close on several occasions, but this is the first time, I think, that I am actually throwing a "temper tantrum" in front anyone.

"_Kukuku_, AH-hahhaahah!" snorted Nagi in a decidedly "ungentlemanly" fashion. I suppose, he has been picking up a thing or two from the streets, in this case "how to laugh like a thug-_chuba_!" or something along those lines.

Ugh, either this headache will get me first or his laugh will!

"Temper, temper, temper...eh-_hehehe_...no need to kill the fool now, Friend Chrono!"

"You little chuff-sucking _di_'_kut_, show your face again, and I'll..._oooh_, my head..."

"See, what I told you? Temper, temper, temper! _Ku ku ku ku_..."

"What did you-?! ..._agh_...!" I seethed. Perhaps, being angry in my condition was not such a good idea, which I imagine was what Nagi was implying.

"_Blue_, 'tis your color, yes?" Nagi asked me, as he propped himself up on the side of the bed. He eyed me with a sidelong glance, some devilish scheme gleaming in his grinning eyes.

With that gesture, he reminded me of of an albino spukamas, a popular Corellian housecat, I saw once that a dignitary had brought over to our home. Like the boy from the north, he had taken an instant liking to me, with white fur and bright pinkish eyes, and I discovered he was even more intelligent than usual for his clever kind. How did I know this? Simple: when the cat conveniently disappeared, he would allow no one else but me to retrieve him, stringing me along, and toying with me in a merry chase that he enjoyed greatly at my expense.

"If 'tis so, perhaps you should take some of your own advice to heart."

What was the name of that important man again? Dai Ar...Dai Ar-something? Wait, a _Corellian_-!

"Calm. Peace. You are like the lake, not a river, _yet_."

...huh?

"What in the Stars are you going on about now?" I eyed him with grim suspicion. Philosophy in my youth was not my strong point, you see. Morality and ethics were more relevant, practical things to me and more readily understood, but more existentialist concepts and classical thought problems escaped me entirely. I was not apt at reading language, that is "reading between the lines" either.

If I had "read" better, I would have seen things coming a lot sooner than expected.

Nagi laughed, "That's my hero! Cunning-Little-One was right about you. You are the perfect hero for me!"

...I beg your pardon, while I try not to vomit in disgust. The thought of being the Little Emperor of the North's vassal positively irks a nauseating revulsion at the horror and absurdity of such an arrangement. Much like Walon Vau, I must have sworn somewhere in the back of my mind that I would never, ever-!

"Tsk, tsk, doth thou desireth the Fool's ear for thy counsel, mi'lord?" he cut in High Gothic once more, with a grandiose theatric lilt. If he were standing, Nagi would have bowed to me for certain, but he had assumed a position akin to a child at his knees by my bedside instead.

My frown deepened, "_Disappear_, **devilish puck**. I am not in the mood to suffer anymore of your trickery...ugh-!"

"Ah, ah, ah! Temper, temper, temper. Being angry is only going to make the _ickle_ ache in your head worse, mi'lord! The Corellian Athena, _rawr_, really did a number on you, sir, yes sir, that she did, _fufufu_."

That's --- that's right! The Zoldark girl, where was she? What happened-?

"You realize, I was quite astonished to see you get into trouble so swiftly, diving headlong into the sea of troubles and travails. When I heard from the weathervane one of you came out, and the other was hospitalized, I just had to come!"

Funny, news sure travels fast around here. Should I be dreading the fact, disturbed, or both? ...but we got into a fight? Over what though? Ugh, it hurts to force myself to remember; did I get a concussion?

"So, want to talk about it? A bedeviled fool I am, but I am more than happy to lend an ear free of charge. Who knows? I might just have the clue to solve thy riddle, too."

"Nagi, if you honestly --- honest to the Stars --- want to help, tell me why I smell sickly sweet of bacta and where Ryuune Zoldark lives, so I can go home and get some well-deserved bed rest."

"_Aah_, such a delightfully simple, earnest request: you really do know how to pull at my _heart_ strings," the pale little puck giggled in turn. Seriously, I need to get away from him, before I decide to follow through with more violence.

I shot him a cold stare, my patience wearing thin, "Keep pushing those buttons, Nagi; keep pushing...and we'll get to see how _ugly_ I can be."

"Please, please, save your strength for the fight to come, Friend Chrono! Though to answer your first question, 'tis already been settled."

"Eh?"

"_Fufufu_, it seems your concussion erased that little detail, but I have faith you'll remember in due time. All I can say from secondhand is that you entered an altercation with Zoldark, and she simply settled the dispute with one blow. The medical droids got a bit antsy, so they dumped you into the bacta tank just to be safe."

"...tsk, and the other?" I frowned, and noted down the address that accompanied his whimsical cheer. Ryuune had knocked me out? I knew, she was strong, but to render me unconscious so easily.

Well, this complicates things a bit...

* * *

I spent the rest of the day, _brooding_, for a lack of more colorful term. The trudge back to my dorm room was almost too much to bear through the recently cleared snow and all. I cannot remember how she hit me or what she did exactly, but it could have been any ordinary strike. The bacta should have already cured me of any injury, external or internal, and yet, I felt as helpless as a space smashed on the local rocket fuel.

I was a wreck, which gave me plenty of time to think and groan, as I lay in bed. Naturally, there were two things on my mind: "the women" and my war. Little did I know, the former, the latter, or both in any number combinations would dominate my thoughts constantly in the years to come. I believe, the phrase: "If it isn't war, it's a woman. If it isn't a woman, it's war. And you're up _shavit _creek without a hyperspanner, if it's both" (possibly in the plural, too) applies here.

The latter at present was settled "simply" enough. Now, I do not mean to sound pompous, but even in my childhood, I never planned to lose, that is, any strategy I have ever devised never once considered the possibility of **defeat**. Failure, defeat, death, capture, loss: those words never entered my mind for a second. Setbacks? Complications? Sure, I make room for them, "breathing space" I like to call it, or contingency plans in professional nomenclature.

Why? I believe, it is a product of nature and my nurture: born and bred to be a winner. Fighting and playing are entirely two different things to me, you see. I can afford to lose a "game" and enjoy myself, but I fight to win, no doubts, no hesitation.

Perhaps, this ideal is also the cause for my agony when the cruel jaws of that which is an anathema to myself, sank their slavering fangs into me...

But I digress, the plan was simple: make a gamble --- a gentleman's agreement, show up, win, assume power, reform the Student Disciplinary Committee, begin the crackdown, and put a system of succession in place to continue my ideals in lieu of my inevitable absence. Of course, there was bound to be a system of checks and balances already in place that would counter my well-meaning, erm, enactment of martial law. The Student Council will no doubt move post-haste to remove me from office, which I will need to find some way to counter.

Oh Heavens, I think I am going to have to start studying election laws, legislation niceties, accountability, and...oohhh, I feel a lot of long sleepless nights coming on. To shoulder the burden all by myself, and I only have two and a half years to clean up this school. No rest for a hero, huh?

...wait, a hero? Who's the hero here? Me? Absurd; it sounds like I am starting to believe the nonsense Nagi Dai Artai has been trying to feed me for almost three months now. Ugh, and to think, I will likely be needing his expertise more and more in the days to come. "Working the system" was one of his many talents, after all.

I had no clue how to do any of that, and I was going to need those skills if I was to keep my head above the waterline for the next two and a half years.

The easy part, of course, in my plan was to get stronger, much, much stronger than I am now. When the time comes for my showdown, I know it will be physically impossible for a near-human, such as myself to overpower a Wookie. What I needed was skills, a ton of experience, and some magi-tech know-how to see if it was possible to manipulate the Power Belt weapon device beyond its specifications.

Yes, I intend to beat the Wookie at his own game, as I will against the Student Council, and everything else at their "amusements". These acts will be my message; my legacy to this school, and I will break down that wall so everyone can follow me to that brighter tomorrow.

Now bear in mind, the grave weight of morality, ethics, and "long-term consequences" did not occur to me in my youth. Later in my life, they still would not chain me down, either. It is not because I do not care about them; I just did not care about the majority opinion on the subject, which is why certain "elements" would consider my family so dangerously "helpful" and "nosey", as it is a demeanor that has been passed over the generations. Everyone partakes in the ethos of "The Judgment (XXI)" to varying degrees, and I may be a more extreme case.

We have been both dubbed "revolutionaries" and "counter-revolutionaries". It is not as I dislike or hate "institutionalized society"; in fact, I respect its rules and customs, when they do work for the people, in the spirit of compassion and justice. When they do not --- that is the time I become dangerous from disillusionment and discontent, like I am now.

I admit I am "short-sighted", but I am only mortal as well. I cannot see "forever" into the future, as insight and conventions of wisdom can only carry my soul so far. However, should I live long enough to see what my legacy has become, then I will act appropriately to the situation, at least what is "appropriate" to me.

It was through this somewhat melancholy train of thought that I finally landed to the former: "the women." At present, I only had one to worry about, as I would settle old bones with Mother when I returned home briefly in the short respite between the school's closing and opening ceremony this spring. The issue of the moment was a Corellian tom...well, make that a Corellian hellcat, whom had incapacitated myself in one blow.

Was I insulted? Of course, who would not be when bested by a stronger opponent (and so easily too)? I would certainly ask for a rematch, but problem is, I cannot remember what happened at all. She was my responsibility! What in the Stars could have happened to set us at each other's throats?

...ugh, I feel a strong headache coming on, enough to make me wretch, just trying to remember what happened. The only thing I could be certain of were these left over feelings dwelling in me: confusion, regret, disappointment, hurt, and strangely enough, admiration(?). I suppose, the last feeling was not particularly a normal reaction, then again I am not a "normal" persona either. Besides, is it wrong to admire someone stronger than you?

Why she would make the best sparring partner I could hope for under present circumstances, not to mention it would help me keep an eye on...

That's it! That's brilliant! Now, I know exactly how to approach her tomorrow when...

_Twitch_.

..._oohhh_, my head! Sudden...movements...excitement...bad idea. Sleep...not moving...good idea! But what am I going to do about lunch and dinner?

_Grumble_.

Oh, that's right, I still have not eaten anything at all today, which means...

_Ding-a-ling_, _ding-a-ling_!

That bell! It could not be-!

"Oh, Darling Chrono!" came a loud cheery shout that positively sent an eerie chill up my bedridden spine. "I anticipated you might be hungry, so I grabbed a hot tray _just_. _for_. _you_. from the dining hall, while I was carried away on the four winds of..."

Oh, no...why **him**? Why, now?! Must secure the hatch to my quarters at...

_Hiss_...!

"_Hello_, my sweet prince! Did you miss me, hmm?"

Nagi Dai Artai --- how I _loathe _thee.

* * *

Waking up the following day was not too bad; the effects of my concussion had worn off, considerably so. However, the symptoms were still nagging at me: a light nausea and an inability to focus my concentration intensely. In other words, getting into a fight today would be ill advised for my health.

Classes resumed today, and the medical droids had sent out the word to my professors that I was not receive any physical practical application exams for forty-eight hours, much to my bittersweet relief. Granted, two days could be a huge set back to my coming operations, but it could not be helped. Besides, my physical incapacity should give me time to make proper arrangements for my new training schedule, namely: getting an apprenticeship under my Modern Combatives instructor, and of course, my new sparring partner.

Campus was pretty sleepy, chilly that morning. Most of the students would not return for another two weeks or so, leaving just around a thousand of us undergraduates from my class to "own the town." I left early, well before sunrise to brave the elements, and work my way over to the Bronzo Quarter. I had to hitch a speeder bus to get there in a timely matter, but that it is besides the point; what you want to know is why it is called the Bronzo Quarter, yes?

Well, other than the obvious notion that it houses the majority of the student population, the Bronzos, live: the environment and the architecture. Now, I would not call it a ghetto; in fact, at that point in my life I had yet to experience a real ghetto. One day in the lower levels of Coruscant, or even the cities of Tantooine, erased all of my naiveté in that regard soon enough.

But I digress...tsk, how about this? If the Platinum Quarter is comparable to where the nobility live, and the Aurum Quarter where the wealthy and the esteemed reside, then the Bronzo Quarter is the home of the common people. Brownstone townhouses converted into apartments, huge brick-bronzium dormitories that implied their age, and somewhat crowded bustling streets, where you can see steam flowing out from vents and manhole covers from the utilities and power lines overhead.

Honestly, I had never been on this side of the base before, and the atmosphere was something of a shock to me, with my sheltered life. I believe it felt very "urban" and "city-like", bringing up feelings of suffocation and vulnerability. I felt exposed and under-rmed, and you can imagine my fear when I arrived on Coruscant for the first time down the line in my career. I could barely restrain the urge to burn that "ugly" megastructure to slag: unnatural, artificial, the rape of Nature by Science and Ambition that had virtually transformed an entire planet into a **machine**.

Again, I apologize for distracting you. Those are stories much further on in the future yet to come.

I staked out the possible entrances to Ryuune's dorm. Unfortunately, there were four to choose from, and if Lady Luck was not on my side, she would slip right past my notice. A one in four chance...I profess gambling for monetary gain was never my strong suit, but if it comes to putting my life on the line, I have gladly done so many times.

My only clue in this situation was to put myself in her proud, headstrong shoes and consider the facts. For practical

purpose, she was likely to use the speeder bus for her morning commute to class, as walking was simply a waste of time. Besides, if Ryuune wanted to grab an early chow, the bus commute was a definite must, and the easiest way to get to the station from my limited experience was to walk out from the front entrance and follow...

...speak of the Fates, here she comes now! Stars, that girl is an early riser; here, I was hoping for a few more minutes of peace and quiet in the cold comfort of...oh dear, she sees me, and she is coming this way.

...and she does not look happy either.

"G'mornin-!" I attempted to greet her, before Ryuune dropped her schoolbag on the sidewalk and lunged for me.

The attack, of course, caught me off guard --- no, stupefied me, knocking my cover off my head, as my instinct failed me yet again! I found myself hauled up to my tip toes by the lapels of my coat, and forced to face the flame burning behind those bright blue eyes. Yes, my inkling suspicion was correct: Ryuune Zoldark was strong, perhaps extraordinarily so for her age. Taking out eight boys, her seniors easily, was no fluke.

"You're some kind of super _di_'_kut_, aren't you, punk?" she hissed at me, "or is being a dumbass in style right now with your kind?"

Great, what have I gotten myself into now?

I smiled, "I barely have a clue as to the words that just came out of your mouth, but I assume they were not meant to be flattering-!"

And then, she headbutted me.

"-FRAK!"

Yes, that hurt, a lot. I suppose, I was not wrong in rechristening her the Corellian hell...

"Why don't you cut the phobium, and start singing like a canary?"

"_Kehh_... I think you have got the wrong-_gh-kkkk_...!"

Wh-What the-? She --- she is using my own coat to choke me! Where did she learn this move from?! A Bronzo officer candidate is not supposed to know techniques like that!

"Listen, moron, you made a big mistake coming down here all alone, and no one's going to give a damn about what happens to you. So, if you want the pain to end, you're going to tell me..."

I nodded, as best as I could, seemingly acquiescing to her demands. I was not some damned fool, who was just going to let this angry, headstrong girl choke me out, but violence was not the answer in this situation. I wanted this girl on my side, not laid out on the sidewalk with me because that is what is going to happen if I decided to counter her choke hold.

"Good, so you do got a brain in that bucket," Ryuune relaxed her choke enough for me to breath and speak.

"Ugh...hah...loo-k, Zol-dark, you have got to..." I choked out, before she roughed me up again, much to my disappointment.

"**I **ask the questions; **I **do the talking! You only speak, when **I **say so, got that, frakface?"

Yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am! Can you please ease up on the pressure? I am no good to your paranoid interrogation if I am unconscious.

"Now, answer this... Who sent you, huh? Who do you work for?"

"_No one_," I rasped, gazing right into those furious bright blue eyes, with all the integrity I could muster.

"**Liar**. I know, how your kind operates, with your posses, your connections, every-thing. I am **not** just some naive, scared little stray from Coronet! You all don't scare me! You have no idea what _real _**monsters** are like..."

What in the Stars? '_Real monsters_'?

"Go ahead... Keep pushing, just go right ahead and keep pushing me, and you'll see what happens! I'll-"

"I am sorry."

There was a deathly silence.

Looking back, it is still hard to say who was more shocked: myself or Ryuune. The words had come spilling out of my treacherous mouth without my own conscious consent. I must have lost it to have the nerve to say something like that to a girl, whom held my life in the palm of her hands, but perhaps, I was not wrong either. Why?

Because for an instant, I saw a crack in the proud armor of fury and confidence: **fear** --- and --- _horror_(?).

She dropped me faster than a cat to scalding hot water and backed away. Deep breaths, inhale, exhale; adjusted her askew cover, grabbing her discarded schoolbag; anything at all to avoid my gaze and try recollect some semblance of composure. How could an apology shake her up that badly?

Stars, I do not even understand the reasons for it, but if this is to be my chance, I have to take it now before she gets away from...

"Tsk...listen well, you hear, _di_'_kut_? I-I --- **I **won't say this again," Ryuune cut in gruffly, as I stood up, "Don't come around here anymore. In fact, stay the _droyk _away from me!"

I sighed inwardly. ...Oh Stars, can this morning get any more crazy? A few moments ago, she was the aggressor, determined to wring me out, within an inch of my life, for whatever information she wanted, which, frankly, I did not have. I was in the dark as much as she was as to what was going on behind my back and beyond the breadth of my eyes and ears in this school.

Little did I know, this sort of emotional bi-polar reaction is actually quite common; in fact, I was probably the odd one out for not having it more often...though when it did happen... Never mind. In any case, I was not about to let the Flapper Girl just fly away, considering the amount of bodily harm she had inflicted on me; I felt more compelled than ever that this girl was to be my responsibility. The Fates be damned if somebody tries to stop me from reforming her and I could careless for her violent protests, just because you are strong does not give you the damned right to abuse that strength or hoard it away for personal gain!

...but who taught me that "crazy" notion? I do not recall this subject ever coming up. See, I have had many long talks with grandfather and grandmother on the subject of "Life"; they recognized my precocious maturity early on, and thusly, engaged me so in many "problem-thought" discussions and so on, leaving it to Mother to, well, mother me. I think Mother, even now, has difficulty (likely exacerbated by recent milestones) coming to terms with the fact that her beloved only son was a boy and a young man sharing the same body.

...I miss her...

Ugh, must not get distracted now; the girl is going to get away from me! Naturally, diplomacy was my first choice, but she ignored me and kept on walking, no, hurried forwards without looking back. Protocol dictated I retrieve my cover at least before continuing my pursuit, as it was inappropriate for myself to move outdoors "uncovered" in uniform, by the Stars, there was no time to waste.

I force marched after her, overtook the "fleeing" banshee, and barred her path with my own body. Yes, I know, not smart, but in this particular situation, to grasp the future I desire, I could not settle for half-hearted action. The trick, I felt, was to control the situation as much as possible in my favor by escalating the critical matter, at my pace.

Ryuune gaped at me aghast, blue eyes wide with shock, an opportunity I exploited before she could slam the "door" in my face:

"This is not the time to be running away from your fears, you realize?"

"_Keh_...what are you...!"

"To be honest, I do not know even know what I apologized for... Maybe it was for what happened yesterday at the clinic, but considering you gave me a concussion, I cannot remember what happened that led us to come to blows."

"A...a concussion?!"

"But, what is past is past. Right now though, will you lend me your strength?"

If it were not possible before, her shock grew worse, her complexion paling at my words. Perhaps, the idea of someone of my unusual circumstances asking for her aid, despite our less than pleasant parting, was the cause. Of course, there had to be plethora of other possible reasons too, like abandonment issues, misanthropy, etc., but I do not have the time to dwell on them, as my nausea starting to catch up with me again.

"If you do not know what to do with that strength, then by all means, let me show you a way. Right now, what you and I need is a comrade, someone to watch your six if you will, because two nights ago we started a war, and I intend to finish it, with your help."

I hope my gamble works...I probably will not get a better chance than this any time soon.

"I do not ask you to fight for me; if possible, I do not want you to do anything against your will. All I ask is that you fight against me: to test my strength against yours, and perhaps that way, I will grow strong enough to protect us both 'till the peaceful day comes that we part ways, without regrets."

Ryuune Zoldark stared at me. Of course, it was a lot to take in at once, not to mention my somewhat wrought wording did not help matters. To dumb it down in terms that a Clone Trooper can understand, it goes something like this:

"Look, we're both in deep _shavit_, and we need each other. I don't mind too much that you beat the crap out of me, 'cuz I can't even remember what you did, so I say let bygones be bygones. You don't have to like me; we don't have to be friends. I'm just going to be your battle buddy, watch your back, and stuff. Instead, of beating up the hit squads from the Disciplinary Committee, you can spar with me and beat me up. You're strong, I need to get stronger, and I think we can help each other out. I don't care about what baggage you got. I won't ask, but if you want to share, I'm all ears.

"Eventually, I'm going to be one strong sonuva-you-know-what, strong enough to take care of both our sixes, and by then, this whole crazy frakked up situation will be done and over. If you got no regrets by that time, hey, we can stop this whole motivating comrades-in-arms deal and go our separate ways. And yeah, I'm going to win and beat those bastards down. Things are going to change and I'm going to make it happen!"

At least, I pray that is the message the blonde-haired girl received from me; if she did not, I am going to feel like the part of a fool, and I am going to have to consider doing something about my formal speech. As for Ryuune, well, she seemed to have a private war going on beyond the shaken windows of her soul. Her lips had been pursed to a grim feral snarl, and she eyed me with such intense suspicion that I wondered if I should ready myself to stand my ground.

Not that it would do me much good, I imagine, but the doc's word or no, I have my pride to defend. I just hope I could think of an ingenious way to accomplish the said feat, without ending up in the emergency room. Ugh, I can feel that nausea knocking on my door...

"You're **weird**," deadpanned the girl, who was about to make my world a lot more _fun _(as Nagi would say), with a helpless sigh. Had she --- had she accepted my proposal?!

With those two words, I began to feel all the tension in the air evaporate...

"Ugh, whatever. Do what you like. I'll just beat the hell out of you later, anyway, when you're not messed up in the head. In fact, I will beat you up, when words goes around I'm hanging around with a snooty holier-than-your-mama's-_shebs_ Platinum!"

...and I had to quell the sudden, absurdly strong impulse to embrace Ryuune and swing her around by the waist, by biting down on the inside of my cheeks. I do not believe indulging my exuberance in such a manner was appropriate, considering the circumstance. Not to mention, I believe, strongly, that she was not **that **liberal in her meaning of "Do what you like"; besides, we just met! It is entirely irrational that Ryuune would suggest...unless Corellian females have a custom of...errr, bad idea.

"Are you done catching flies with your _Uj_'cakehole?" she broke through my, well, err, embarrassed thoughts, with a cynical glance. "_Double time_! Grab your trash and your cover, dammit. Didn't they tough up you sweety milk-toothed _Platinums_ in Recruit Training? Or did you forget how to double time? C'mon, morning chow's wasting a way, and I still have to get to class, ya turdburgling nerfherder!"

And that's how I got started my "sneaking mission" through the electrified razorwire fence (backed with mines, attack hounds, all-terrain walkers, surface to air missiles, blaster turrets, a thorough sensor net, shield generators, and an anti-ship ion cannon) between myself and Ryuune Zoldark, the White Steel Angel. Oh Stars, it was a long and dangerous "mission", and I did not even get hazard pay for it, as the "sneaking mission" was entirely voluntary.

"Uh...y-Yes, Ma'am!"

"Don't '_Uh_..._y-Yes_, _Ma_'_am_!' me, stutterin' jackass. If you're going to say it, then say it with your **man **voice!"

Was it worthwhile? Yes. Why?

"YES, MA'AM!"

"I can't hear you!"

Well, you all will find out soon enough.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.6 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. I did not quite get as much accomplished as I wanted to this chapter, but I did take care of some rather cut and dry stuff from down on the road, so that ought to help expedite things along. Frankly, this chapter is already too long at almost 6000 words worth of content, but hey, it's still mission accomplished and we can all look forward to the next episode in a couple of weeks time.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic, go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 16 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	7. Entry 1 7: Catty Girls

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.7:

Catty Girls and Planning

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Maybe it was Fate, the Guidance of the Stars, or an absurd crook of Lady Luck's sly smile, but when Ryuune Zoldark had filed for her course request, the Registrar's Office had FUBAR'd it. It was only this morning that they fixed her schedule; now, she was attending the classes she signed up for, not to mention at her desired discipline levels. Of course, they were all "Honors" classes, which was not unusual mind you, as there are ambitious Bronzos who seek to better themselves and gain prestige.

The thing is, her schedule for her core curriculum classes mirrors mine, **exactly**.

Convenient?

The only time we, technically, had away from each other was our electives, which was not much either. Why? Because she was right across the training field or the hall from me.

Or too convenient?

I pray I am not reading too much into the circumstances, but I have a sinking feeling she, too, is a Navy "gal" and aspires to a duty station with Special Investigation Offices, under the E.I.D., just like me.

...but I digress for I was about to receive a second shock to the system today in Modern Combatives. Mind you I was shocked enough to have Ryuune Zoldark sitting to my right with a frown, and Nagi Dai Artai curiously absent from my left. The fact, I was only six years old at the time probably spared me the worse of the damage, but to my older counterparts, particularly those in their teens:

They had been **charmed **off their pants.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," rumbled forth the gentile purr of our Combat Instructor, though he preferred to be thought of as a professor.

He was Alchemic Warmeister, Leonis Charteuse Grande, a veteran of the Clone War, whom at first glance was for all intents a Cathar, a race of feline-like bipedal humanoids from the planet of the same name. Professor Grande, in particular, bore the uncanny noble semblance of the "Lion" sub-species, as indicative of his rich mane and impressive "royal" stature. Thing is, he is not actually a Cathar, as in fact, he was originally a human. As he explained to us, vaguely, an experiment gone awry is to blame for his present state, but he does not mind. To him, it was nothing more but another trial in his pursuit for "The Truth" --- whatever that means.

Anyways, this was the fateful morning I encountered "That Catgirl", who would forever cement the wet hormonal dreams of many youths (perhaps mine as well) and that "THE MINISKIRT" will posthaste become a standard female uniform item. Oh, and stockings were a must, preferably ending just around the thigh, creating a zone that I would learn later in life called "ZETTAI RYOUKI / The Absolute Territory"; and yes, the sailor uniform blouse is a must, as well.

I was young then, so the "_Nekomimi_ _Musume_ / cat-eared girl"...fetish...did not hit me as hard. I never expected such a concept would originate from the backwater homeland of my father, and thus in turn, proved infectious to the gentleman who was the "father" of this particular "cheery" individual. Apparently, he came to the conclusion that connoisseurs of the opposite sex are fascinated, also, by the idiosyncrasies of their favored four-legged companions. Therefore, given the right combination of aesthetics in the union of sentient and beast, and considering the gentleman's fascination with felines, the result was...

"Good! Morning, everyone! The beautiful, audacious, femme fatale Lieutenant Lotte Lieze, reporting as ordered," cheered the cat-eared young woman, waving her hands gaily, a rambunctious enthusiasm mirrored too in the swish of her tail. "You wouldn't mind if I stole your heart, now, do you-_nyan_?"

I do not know if it was an illusion cast by some fabulous Glamour-type spell, but as soon as she finished that tagline, the classroom was filled with a "warm and fuzzy" feeling complete with scintillating sparkles. I pray it was an illusion for it was quite disturbing to see a majority of my classmates spontaneously combust, simultaneously rising from their seats with hearts of fire and tears in their eyes. I believe, the phenomenon I witnessed was called a "group powerpose", as they all cried their approval.

Such bold phrases as, "Lieutenant! Please, go out with me!" and "You pass to take my heart!" and "We of the Catty Cat Girl Alliance APPROVE, heartily!" were common in the rowdy demonstration that followed, disrupting any sense of order. A jealous counteraction had, on the other hand, split the females in my class in two separate factions: those for the audacious "femme fatale" and the those against the newest threat to their vanity. I would have gawked at the whole production, if I were not terribly worried about the "time bomb" ticking off to my right.

Literally, there was a red countdown icon ticking off right above Ryuune Zoldark, as she was wreathed in brilliant flames, her gaze shrouded with dreadful intent, while her blonde hair billowed from an ill wind. The ferocious sight was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat, as I considered my options, while listening to Professor Grande's gentile rumble rise above the riot with the remainder of his announcement. Apparently, the young woman who had just bedeviled the entire class was our new combat instructor and she would also be taking over his duties in the Combined Arms Combat section of the class in the afternoon, too.

With that last bit of useful information on hand, I then turned to my critical task: how to defuse Ryuune Zoldark. I observed my objective and my surroundings, swiftly, hoping to correlate some relationship, some common folk magic that might be able to prevent the holocaust brewing beside me. Alas, answers did not come; I even sought out the idioms Grandfather and Grandmother passed on to me, but the knowledge escaped my scrambling thoughts.

Stars, it was something --- simple. I should know it! Observe; think; one more try, the boys and the girls; the girls split into two separate factions; Ryuune and the females; there should be... Ah, I found it; the answer to the dilemma is **vanity**. If vanity was the source of the problem, could I not use it as well to cure the problem? Yes, I would make an appeal to Ryuune's vanity post-haste and pray for success!

"You know," I coughed, informally, to get her attention, leaning over with a kind of furtive glance to reinforce the fact I meant business.

When she did not acknowledge me, I realized to my private horror that I was going to have to get a lot closer. I lament that this sort of thing never got easier, even as I grew older. The only thing that seemed to improve was the reactions, ever more spectacular, from the recipient. Indeed, it never ceases to amaze myself the power that words hold over the complex labyrinth of the female mind.

"I believe, you are much more, er, well..."

Pardon my stuttering; I never was able to master "smoothness" (as per definition by Acous in the days yet to come) to a silken degree. Then again, he notes that, perhaps, it is my ineptness that brings out a kind of "sincere charm" in myself. Of course, this is coming from the same man who tells me with great enthusiasm that women love to see my troubled expression, so I cannot say to trust his observations, entirely.

Her fiery intent died a little, but Ryuune paid me no heed beyond a derisive, irritated snort, as if I were some fly buzzing in her ear. Discouraged; I was tempted to give up, but that would go against my nature, especially when I have come this far because I might as well take the plunge with both feet, now that I have stuck one foot into the abyss:

"...you are --- _cuter_ --- much more so, than she is. In fact, I have every confidence you can do the '_catgirl_'routine better than her, too!"

The result was obvious, judging by the sudden outburst of "glamorous steam". Gone were the flames, instead was a "sizzling" girl blushing positively from head to toe, with a stunned doe-eyed look. I had, roughly, a few scant moments to bask in my success, that is to say I got to see her turn away and fidget uncharacteristically, as if she were trying to "shrink" herself away, an act that I found to be **bizarrely **cute and adorable. My curiosity peaked I leaned in a little closer before --- _biff_! --- her palm thrust out and connected squarely with my jaw, I imagine out of defensive reflex at being cornered. The vertigo-inducing blow (thanks to my delicate constitution) knocked me out of my seat, and sadly, straight into the arms of blissful oblivion, but not before I heard a rather curious parting statement:

"P-Perv-idiot...!"

Double whammy, a pervert and an idiot; there goes my pride yet again.

* * *

When I returned to the land of the conscious, the lime scent of antiseptic and a spicy, sweet perfume were the first things to assault my senses. The former meant I was likely in a clinic or the general hospital, somewhat a boon and a curse, but a logical conclusion considering my present delicate constitution. The problem was the latter: I do not know any particular female my age or above, amongst my acquaintances, who wears perfume, much less the particular scent in question. In fact, I do not know any female, period, who **purrs** in such a remarkably feline fashion that I have to wonder if there was a cat, indeed, right next to me...?

"Hello, Soldier!" appeared the inimitable form of Lieutenant Lotte Lieze at my bedside, propped up on her elbows with her tail erect, and her powder blue eyes slightly closed in dreamy expression of "feline content."

I admit, I do not have a preference for any particular domesticated four-legged companion, as I believe there are merits in all manner of creatures, be they cats or dogs. Thus, I have been able to learn unbiased a variety of facts and "hints" about the various creatures of the universe that sentient beings are fond of. In this particular case, I do not know how close Professor Lieze imitated the behavior of her likeness, but her body language here seemed to be consistent with a feline in a "sociable" mood. Now, I had the intention of speaking with her after class, obviously, considering I was going to need her tutoring to advance to my martial belt faster among other things.

My concern? Her presence here was a little too convenient. In fact, I have the distinctive ill feeling I had done something to earn her attention...I just cannot seem to remember, unfortunately.

"Erm, good morning, ma'am," I responded, clumsily, feeling oddly uneasy in her presence. As if I were in...danger?

The feline lieutenant giggled, "Soldier, it's already afternoon!"

"Uh...s-sorry."

"Silly! There's nothing to apologize for-_nyan_. If anything, you should be mad at that girl for knocking you out like that! Hmph, honestly, girls these days are so spoiled, taking good boys and real men totally for granted. Don't they have any idea at all how hard it is to find a good-to-honest nice guy in the galaxy?"

Well, this is an awkward topic...

"But, you know, Chrono_nyan_..." moaned Lieutenant Lieze, **suddenly**, in a coquettish tone that made me red from my ears to my toes in a heartbeat. She already knows my first name!? And why do get the distinctive feeling this conversation is about to get a whole lot more physical?!

"Y-Y-yes, ma'am?" I stuttered, considering my rapidly diminishing options, as the young woman who vastly outranked me advanced upon my vulnerable person. The hospital bed creaked under her weight, as she mounted it with the poised prowl of a huntress, heightening my tension and fear by the second. Fortunately, I was young enough wherefore hormones were not interfering with my cool rationale, and there was no doubt in my mind that several codes of the uniform code of military justice were being broken.

Of course, hormones or not, I was powerless, frankly, to do anything in my position. Who would believe me in this corrupt institution that I was sexually molested by a female officer? Not a chance in hell! It would be my word against hers in the court of law, and...well, dammit, there has to be some way I can fight back. But how?

And then I remembered something Nagi said once, making me frown inwardly with distaste that **he **would indirectly come to my aid in such unexpected circumstances. Would I ever thank him for this? Not flaming likely, but I will most definitely remember...

_Audentes Fortuna Iuvat_ / Fortune Favors the Bold.

Lo, did I make my counterattack with emboldened resolve. I cleared my throat, catching her eyes with an open challenging scowl, as I forced all the flame I could muster from my soul into my gaze:

"Excuse me, **Liezelotte**..."

The cat-eared young woman froze at the commanding tone, her powder blue eyes wide stunned.

"I appreciate your feelings, but can we not savor this moment for another time? I am not legally an adult yet, and throwing your career away over the heat of the moment would **disappoint **me, coming from the beautiful, audacious woman I expect to train me and make me stronger for the trials to come. When the time is ripe, I promise you I will be happy to accompany you out on the town...?"

I think, I had said more than enough. Lieutenant Lieze's expression had transformed into the most endearing vulnerable teary doe-eyed that made me feel a hundred-twenty percent the villain, and sorely, wishing to repent for my actions. But, you can imagine my surprise when she pounced, smothering me against her bosom, as she nuzzled me with ferocious affection that would have earned a nod of approval from Mother.

"S-So...CHRONO IS SO COOL! SO CUTE!" she cried in jubilation, "_Nyan_, Lotte wants to take you home, now!"

Suffice to say, I lost consciousness, quickly, but I was happy to see from the note Lotte had left me that I had apparently passed "her standards" and that my insult to her had been amended, quite nicely. Her hearing, you see, was exorbitantly exceptional and took a lot of concentration on her part to regulate, and she could not help but overhear my conversation with Ryuune...yes, she heard us, incredibly. Lotte had not been happy to hear that, to say the least.

Fortunately, I have managed to not only repair our professional relationship, and unwittingly so, created something of a deeper bond between us. You see, the cat-eared woman was holding me good to my promise, so I had better be ready for her when I graduate as a full-fledged officer (no kidding)! I imagine, our bond would only grow once I was able to voice my after-hours training proposal as her new apprentice the day after tomorrow, but for now, I was happy to take her up on her offer to excuse myself from the rest of my classes for the rest of the day. I sorely needed a rest after all the excitement and drama, and I did not fancy being knocked out by Ryuune again, so soon.

Little did I know that the AXE Effect had struck again and claimed its second "Nice Girl turned Naughty Girl".

...or was that the other way around in the case of Lotte Lieze?

* * *

My dorm room was too quiet, again, when I returned in the evening. I was regretting taking the whole day off, as I missed a ton of notes and lessons no doubt. On top of which, I had lost track of Ryuune too; I hope that impulsive girl was all right and had not gotten into more trouble than she was worth while I was away. I will have to make sure to grab her contact information tomorrow when I go to pick her up.

Ugh, worries, worries, worries...is this what it means to be in command, a leader? Granted, I do not have much to worry about besides myself, one "sort of subordinate", one "sort of informant", and my campaign. But I suppose the stress from the "excitement" may have gotten me a little blue, as I much more withdrawn, bidding my time patiently, and here I am all of a sudden falling into situations and being forced to make snap decisions.

I feel lucky than none of them have ended too badly, at least none I can remember thanks to Ryuune Zoldark. Honestly, I need to work on my reflexes to evade her strikes better. She has already incapacitated me twice, and I can only imagine how terrifyingly awesome she will be once she receives her first "Device". In fact, I am looking forward to sparring with her, considering if she was this strong with just casual off-hand strikes, I want to have a better feel for her prowess.

Anyways, I was a little surprised to find yet another take-out hot tray waiting for me when I arrived into the living room, but not only that, there was a stack of papers too lying on the coffee table. A quick inspection revealed them to be notes for the day, covering all of my cases, and the neat whimsical scrawl seemed oddly familiar...could it have been Nagi Dai Artai's work? The food must have been his doing, but to go the trouble of taking my notes for me too...

...just what was The Devil up to? Why was he taking care of me so much? I still cannot believe his words from not so long ago ended up saving me from a potentially "sticky" situation, but he was going through all sorts of trouble to arrange "things" for me. Why? Why do such a thing? What was his objective? What did he have to gain from my struggles?

"'Tis an experiment in good faith, _mi_'_lord_," crooned the familiar mellifluous tones of a certain despot "prince".

"Show yourself, _puck_," I seethed grudgingly, trying my best to hide my embarrassment at being surprised by his sudden presence. Of course, I was more disturbed that his response just now seemed to fit right in line with my thoughts.

Nagi Dai Artai stepped out from behind the curtains that lead to the balcony, grinning from ear to ear, a sight that stung my pride another notch. Perhaps, it would be wise for me not to absorb myself in deep contemplation in the future, particularly in unsecured areas.

"An evening to thee, Heroic Chrono! I was worried about you, terribly so; just one day out of the hospital and already you are getting yourself into trouble. Dear, dear me, I can sympathize with the women, who would be close to your heart long before we have even met! Such a handful you are, that you are, my friend."

Again, he was talking half-sense and nonsense. I fear I will never be able to understand him: a dangerous proposition, indeed. Still, I resolved myself to bite the "plasma" and show my humble gratitude to him, lest I be known as an arrogant ungrateful wretch.

"I must be insane to say this," I conceded to him, with a sigh, "but thank you for picking up the slack for me today."

"O Hark! Heroic Chrono hath thanked the lowly foolish puck for his selfish service. Mine breast doth burst with joy at thine words, mi'lord!"

Ugh, I do not have the stomach for his "melodrama" right now.

"Oh, tired are we? But the night is still young!" lamented Nagi, catching my yawn with a sly grin, "You may want to work on your _stamina_, Heroic Chrono. Never know when it might come in _han__dy_, yes?"

Of course, I did not catch the innuendo he truly meant, and took it as a personal insult to my physical endurance. I assure you I am more than adequate in that regard, but suffering from the after effects of two concussions back to back was not doing wonders for my weakened constitution. Honestly, I ought to follow the doctor's orders, and take it easy for a few days, instead of jumping into the thick of things. I am no good if I keep going down after just one hit to the head.

"Now, now, do not scowl, my friend! I have been working hard all day long to set the stage; my labor blossoming into fruition for this wonderful piece of news: you have ten days left to prepare your resolve."

"Hm? ...Oh, you mean when SEES will be making their next move?"

"Indeed, and what a fantastic production it will be! You see, the rest of the students will be returning next week, which is coincidentally the same time Atlas's infamous underground _**dueling **_circuit, _The Coliseum_, will reopen its gates to all comers, run by the students for the students."

Now, how about that? I would never have thought there was an organized illegal blood sport competition going on right underneath my nose; unbelievable.

"They are planning on crashing one of the big duel events for this spring dubbed '_The Royal Rumble_' by the event managers _The Extraordinaire Rajah Troupe_, whom are one of the twelve troupes in charge of managing _The Coliseum'_s vast operations. It is meant to celebrate the return of the fighters and the patrons for a new year of, well, fighting and fortune."

"Fortune?" I asked, curious.

"If men and women will gamble on horses and pod races, it is not that hard to imagine them gambling on the pride of their fellows does it?"

Ugh...

He smiled gleefully, noticing my plain distaste, "Don't worry; it's meant to be just meant to be fun and games, though there've been fatalities in a few cases where the fighters took things a little too seriously."

And that is why it is illegal. People our age are not adults yet, too young, and incapable of taking responsibility for our actions.

"Of course, they were covered up as training accidents. Wouldn't want to tarnish the image of the Battle School now, would we? _Fu fu fu fu_!"

I frowned, "That's enough, Nagi."

"Oh, of what, mi'lord?" he imitated my frown mockingly, arms akimbo on his hips.

"I'll be ready in ten days to make declare my war, and two months after in Martius, you will get to see my fight. I **will **win, _Devil_, and the world will never be the same."

"Ah ha ha; why, of course! I anticipate that day with great pleasure, Heroic Chrono."

The path of carnage, is it? I hope it is a short one. I do not have much of an appetite for senseless battles.

* * *

The next ten days went by at a remarkably relaxed pace, that is to say I avoided further trips to the clinic via high velocity impact to my cranium. The trick was quite simple: keeping my trap shut around Ryuune Zoldark. Why? Because ever since I intervened to keep the peace that girl has been giving me "The Evil Eye" nonstop, a devastating glare that continually brings out a helpless troubled expression on my face.

Of course, our near-constant proximity to one another has not gone unnoticed, as its quite the hot gossip topic at the scuttlebutt, according to Nagi. In fact, even I have noticed the conspiring looks and hushed conversations here and there, much to my astonishment. I did not think before that there were this many individuals involved in the "Dark Hours" of Atlas. How they can balance classes and still lead a double life simultaneously amazes me, though little did I know it would be a skill I would become proficient myself, forced by circumstances in due time.

Lieutenant Lieze seemed to be amused by my involvement with the Corellian hellcat. She thought it to be "dangerously cute-_nyan_!" and even offered to "teach me a thing or two about girls" to which I denied graciously on the grounds that Ryuune and I were, ahem, "study buddies"...

"Oh, really, _Kurosuke_?" the cat-eared young woman baited me, her powder blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Kurosuke"? Was that her nickname for me? ...well, at least it has a pleasant onomatopoeia, though I wonder what it means?

"And for how long are you going to study together?"

I replied, firmly, "As long as Zoldark wishes."

...suffice to say, Lieutenant Lieze "busted a gut" from an inside joke that only she was aware of at my expense, and to my dread, she was now more determined than ever to teach me about the fairer sex. It was then, as I had at last returned to full duty status, sensing opportunity despite the risks, that I broached the subject of my apprenticeship to her, and in her amiable mood, she accepted enthusiastically on certain conditions. When I asked what conditions she deemed fair, the ill-feeling of dread struck as Lotte smiled, baring her fangs:

"That's a S-E-C-R-E-T, top secret, Soldier! But, for starters, you have to call me Lotte when we're training together, understand?"

I had no choice, honestly, but to accept. I needed her help, not to mention, she would be proctoring my Modern Combatives Martial Arts exam nonetheless, so I can advance to the next belt level. Therefore, staying on good terms with Lotte despite the occupational hazards was a necessity. As for our training regimen, I told her I wanted to focus on my martial skills in close quarters, which coincidentally was her specialty too, with regards to hand-to-hand combat. Naturally, she was happy to oblige, and I was thankful she did not ask any questions.

What I did not appreciate was walking away virtually black and blue, after just our first training session. You see, despite her whimsical energetic personality, Lotte Lieze is deadly serious when it comes to her training. Of course, she patched me up with an extensive healing spell, and apologized for "roughing me up", as she needed to ascertain my present capabilities. I was pleased to hear I had potential and had done well considering the exorbitant circumstances: a six cycle old child taking on an grown adult was nothing to joke about. Power would come with age and continued exercise, but for now, she could improve my technique, flexibility, stamina, and speed.

Sparring with her was out of the question. Even if I was the same age as her, she would still beat me down in a head-on brawl by virtue of her unique physiology. Lieutenant Lieze might not seem physically imposing, but her physical strength was comparable to a feline creature she called the "_Puma_", which she demonstrated by casually leaping vertically a full four meters and long jumping a jaw-dropping seven meters, unaided. If she were serious and it was good day, Lotte professed she could go for a seven meter vertical and a thirteen meter leap, not to mention she can sprint as fast as fifty-five kilometers per hour!

Suffice to say, I was humbled. Mid-Childans were a near-human species that shared many similarities with humans, but we also had our own fair share of "quirks", such as our extended longevity due to our long history and exposure to Magic that has altered our genome fundamentally. Of course, we are genetically compatible with humans, or otherwise I would never have been born.

Ah, but I digress (though I promise to talk more about the subject of Mid-Childans in the future)! Anyways, to my regret, the healing spell had done nothing for my exhaustion and the lingering phantom pains, but I grit my teeth and toughed it out. You see, on that very same day, I was also due for my first sparring session with Ryuune at the gym.

I did what I could to take care of myself before I got there, that is, grab something quick to eat and drink to regain what little of my strength I could. The blonde-haired Corellian was anxious, when I met her, arriving with just five minutes to spare before our afterhours session would begin. I did not know what was bothering her, but I suppose, being around me, and the fact she has not been "attacked" as of late must have been the reasons.

In any case, Ryuune ushered me in with a curt remark, as per our custom. Somehow, we had come to an agreement that we would not speak beyond necessity, and that gestures and body language would suffice. Of course, it was actually her terms, and I had no real choice but to comply. Nobody paid attention to us as we walked into the gym, as the staff was primarily droids, and the sentient trainers were busy with their regulars' workout regimens or instructing a "combat aerobics" class.

I expected us to go change over first but that did not happen at all. She took me to the nearest available regulation-size boxing ring (yes, we have boxing rings at the gym and wide spaces laid out with floor mats set aside just for casual sparring and other martial-related training regimens) and told me to wait. I obeyed with a nod, and she stalked off, returning moments later with a set of: towels, electrolyte water filled canteens, mouthguards, headgear, elbow pads, and padded half-gloves.

"Here, put these on and get in the ring, _Hurt Vector_," Ryuune commanded me with a stern look. It was the first real set words we had exchanged since she knocked me again just some three days prior.

"'_Hurt Vector_'?" I responded to her. I was going to question her logic, but decided to shoot the breeze instead out of neutrality.

"Yeah, _**you**_, Captain Obvious."

Oh, Stars... I got a bad feeling about this...

"No need to change over because in the real world you're not going to get a chance to call time out and ask the Sith-spawned scum-sucking _peedunky_ to hold his targeting computer, so you can have your thirty seconds to strip into boots and uttes, got it?"

I nodded my agreement. Ryuune did have a point there.

"No kicks today. No high knees. Punches are a go, and so are elbows. Grappling is legal. No cheapass tricks. If it gets hot, you can strip off your trash as we're fighting. I call the ring times, and whatever you do --- don't hold back because I'm a girl **and **it goes against your damned disgusting principles to not hit a female. _Droyk_! You're in the military now, noob."

Uh, well...

"A blaster bolt isn't going to give two flaming fraks in combat, if you're a dickless wonderfag or a frelling bitch with a pair between the legs! You're still going to be dead, and in the next five minutes, I'm going to lay your chuff-sucking choobies black and blue on that mat, is **that **_clear_, _**Frakface**_?"

...it seems I was right. Ryuune Zoldark was pissed and bothered by something, probably me, and she was going take out all those frustrations that I have been building up against me right now, right here. Granted, I have a vague idea this time why she is so angry, but I have never heard of any female getting angry at being complimented before!

Stars, this was going to hurt me --- a lot more than it was going to hurt her.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.7 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. What can I say? More transition elements, getting a new big face in the cast, more growing up, more little details falling into place. Just hang on, we are almost there to Chrono's Second Milestone, the markers on his long journey that saw the transformation of a boy to a man, and a soldier to a hero. Once we are there, I promise you it won't be long until we hit Milestone Three, and even shorter between Milestone Four and Five. Yeah, I know everybody wants to get to the "Good" part, and truth be told, I want to be fussing around with Nanoha and Co. too, but before we get there, we got to set things in motion for those events to happen, you know?

I will say no more beyond here as that would be huge epic spoilers. I can only hope these entries continue to entertain you all and engross you in the universe I've crafted together until we finally hit Entry 2.X where the Lyrical Nanoha arc/era begins, Entry 3.X for A's, and so on. Please, look forward to it.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 16 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). Trust me, I do have my ear on the weathervane, and if it is something serious, I will address the issue. You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	8. Entry 1 8: RockaBye

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.8:

Ryuune's Rock-a-Bye

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Back then, I had only known Ryuune Zoldark for about five days, but within the ten minutes I "sparred" with her for the first time, I learned more than I ever did about her in that short span of time. She was a force of nature, a violent tornado: relentless and brutal, punctuated in tempo by fierce battle cries. There was no reserve to her attacks, extraordinarily coordinated and swift.

We started with a usual matter of courtesy, both fighters touching fist to fist, before breaking off to assume a fighting stance. We used the same "Basic Warrior" stance as we were taught in Recruit Training. We circled each other first, out of caution, to weigh and gauge each other; the ambience filled by the air conditioning, the clang of weights, the chatter of others, and the faint melody of music emanating from the aerobics rooms.

I was impressed to say the least that she could move so well in a full skirt and heels, absolute confidence. Her stance was just as solid as mine and shared the same inherent weaknesses; therefore, the odds should have been even, though I admit she was a head taller than me and thusly had a slight "reach" advantage over me. Of course, there was one lingering doubt in mind: if we were equals, truly...

"_Got_'_cha_...here I come!" grunted Ryuune fiercely through her mouthguard.

...how was she able to take down a majority of her opponents before I even got there? Well, I was about to find out.

Aggressively, she closed the distance in an almost-blurry burst of speed, leaping forwards off her rear foot. I should not have been surprised that she struck first, considering she already gave me advanced warning, but I hesitated. Should I dodge? Should I attempt to counter? Why was I hesitating? I did not have this problem at all when I fought against Lotte-!

My thoughts were interrupted violently, when Ryuune ducked in low underneath my guard, disappearing from my field of view, and "suckered" me with the full force of her right straight to my abdomen. Indeed, she was quite strong, the concussive impact winding me, and my eyes bulging wide from the numbing shock. A pathetic whimper gurgled its way out of my throat, as I lost control of my body, keeling over forwards in a compromised stance.

Of course, the Corellian hellcat obligingly exploited the moment with a rocket uppercut to my jaw, snapping my head back and my body to follow: back arched backwards and feet almost lifting off the mat. I was like a helpless ragdoll in her hands, arms splayed about in the air, and almost poetically, she came in again with another right haymaker to my face, throwing her body weight into the punch, and hammering me to the ground.

All of **this** transpired in a span of less than ten seconds...

I was --- humbled, to say the least, and of course, humiliated beyond mutual understanding. To be beaten, outclassed, and annihilated by someone my own age, so easily, was an eye opening experience to me now that I could fully appreciate the strength of my reckless "charge". By logic, she would be the one protecting me, not the other way around. However, my wounded pride and shear stubbornness refused to lie down without a fight.

The fact, Ryuune Zoldark was strong and wild was the whole reason I committed myself in the first place. Stars! She was the living embodiment of the classic Mandalorian idiom (Mystra knows why Walon Vau taught this to us back in Basic): "_Ke barjurir gar_'_ade_, _jagyc_'_ade_ _kot_'_la_ _a dalyc_'_ade kotla_'_shya_", that is "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger." I would fight her, surpass her, and keep my promise to her.

"C'mon, c'mon; get up!" she snarled at me, "we're not done yet. I still have your disgusting milk-toothed buckfaced _shebs_ for the next fifty-eight minutes! You wanna waste my time? I waste **you**; now, get up!"

Stars...just who was her drill instructor in Recruit Training? I have heard stories about recruits emulating their drill instructors, but this has to be the first time I have seen someone take on such mantle as an active component of their personality.

I grunted and heaved myself back up to my feet with a fresh second wind, intent to fight. I still did not know why I hesitated last time, perhaps it warranted further investigation later but for now, my reservations against fighting her seriously had been assuaged, significantly, having been stung once. Once again, we stood apart and circled each other.

Unlike Ryuune, I did not bother with a battle cry, nor was I as aggressive. If anything, I was trying to think my way through the fight, planning ahead, and setting the trap to my liking when all conditions were satisfied. Unfortunately, the reality of face-to-face martial combat was about to teach me another harsh lesson, for there were indeed **exceptions **to the rules.

"C'mon! Gimmie your best shot, ya bag of ass," she goaded me on, a faint gleam of madness alight in her eyes.

The Corellian hellcat, honestly, did not have to encourage me, as I already had the intention to return the favor. I stepped in, and loosed a sharp flurry of short jabs with my left hand for two purposes: to gauge my reach, to gain ground, and to test Ryuune. She gave ground in the face of my attacks, but only the bare minimum to my astonishment, juking her upper body to dodge, and quickly recover her center mass.

_Whoosh_.

Left.

_Whoosh_!

Right.

**Whoosh**.

Back.

**Whoosh**!

It was incredible. She had no fear at all of being struck! Frighteningly, it appeared she could "read" my attacks, that is (dumb down in laymen's terms): as my jab shot out in mid-flight, she could already figure out my aim and take evasive action. Her reflexes were unnerving, though if I had not been fighting her, I would have called it incredible!

The stark realization made my nerves wear thin, and I accelerated my strategy forwards, despite the almost certain end awaiting me. I herded the hellcat towards the turnbuckle, intent to trap her, even as my dread grew darker with the brightening "madness" in her blue eyes. She knew what was coming, and she could wait to hammer the nail into my coffin.

You see, an exception to the rules I was about to learn here was that an element of **chance **always hold true in any battle, and that in fact, a single "gifted" individual could change the tide of battle. In this case, I had a sound strategy, but Ryuune was simply the vastly superior fighter. My tactics did not mean a damn thing to her.

**Dammit**...!

I set up one last whistling jab, and homed in with a furious right cross, hoping against despair that I could catch her.

"Hmph, too easy," Ryuune snickered her venomous sweet derision.

She ducked underneath the punch, seemingly coiling up like a _jagduari _poised to pounce. Of course, my analogy was in err, considering what happened next: she burst forth propelled by the force of her legs, fists cocked, and hammered into my exposed torso, simultaneously, both chest and stomach. The analogy of a round chambered into the barrel of an auto-rifle was much more appropriate, as my mind associated the sharp painful force I experienced to that being hit by a projectile.

I stumbled back wildly, in danger of falling dumb on my at any moment, though in hindsight it probably would have been smarter to go down. Ryuune came at me screaming like a she-demon, snatching my wrist in a vice-grip and yanking me towards her, and straight into an elbow smash to my jaw (_that _definitely was not an **official **MCMAP technique). A haze of vertigo robbed me of my senses as the world went right side up, up side down, and all over again, momentum carrying me forwards head over heels wherefore I received another "up-close and personal" with the mat.

_Kra-Thud_!

Burning Skies, it hurts... I have half the mind to vomit right now...

"_Aw_, what's wrong, what's wrong, **huh**?!" Ryuune snarled at me, as her shadow stood poised over, liken to some harbinger of death. "Don't tell me it hurts; oh no, no, no! Do **not**. Tell. Me. It hurts!"

It appears it would be wise for the sake of my personal health that I figure some way to rein in her violent tendencies, no matter how much I appreciate the "realism" of the spar. One more solid hit like that, and I am liable to wake up in the nearby medical clinic suspended in a bacta tank.

"You don't know nothin' about hurting, not like _**I **_do! Mommy and Daddy aren't here; nobody sees, nobody hears, nobody says _frak_; no one's going to save you from me, and another fifty-two minutes. Get up; this is what you asked for!"

I realize, I am probably quite dense in certain areas of sentient relations, in this particular case the emotional side. Now, I am not admitting that I am emotionally "dead" in any sense. Emotions in the extreme were just something rare and foreign to me in my young age due to my inherently, and a touch unnatural, precocious nature. In fact, it was probably why Mother tried to mother me so much, lest I mature into a being who was more "order than human", a frightening proposition for the galaxy, apparently so.

In any case, it takes a lot to get my blood "boiling", which was a blessing and a curse. At the moment, I pray it was the former because I was fed up with being beaten down (the record standing at about four to nil, included two knock-outs, against me). Yet, Ryuune's words intrigued me with a curious impulse: somewhere in that drill instructor-biased haranguing, I feel as if she had just given away something _critical _about herself.

I tried to piece together the meager scraps of information about her that I had come into my possession in the short time I had met her. Phrases and concepts came fresh to mind, and though I was impeded by the loss of information from the first incidence when she incapacitated me, I felt I had a fairly reasonable hypothesis. Perhaps, this was the insight I needed to "get inside her head" (a tactic Walon Vau had taught us, no less; imagine my shock when it would come to save me now of all times)? Well, no time like the present to find out...

"_Ugh_...you realize," I began with a pained wheeze, "...being..._in_-formal is... Not some-thin' that's..._in_-character for me."

"_Heeehhhhh_?" she scoffed at me, as I slowly began to stir.

"But, ugh, for **you**...I'll bother...to let my guard down. That said, hah, answer me this: do you like...being _un_-cute? 'cause I like...the **cute **Ryuune Zoldark a whole lot more. This...angry frakking _schutta_ posing to be a drill instructor? All bloomin' loony, hollering and screamin', and piss green blue mad? Sorry, that ain't doin' it for me. I want my cute Ryuune Zoldark, so dangerously cute that it might just be illegal, back --- with _interest_."

Do not ask me how I came up with that statement at the time, as even I am rendered speechless by the words that come forth from my lips when I decide to be "informal" and "improvise". The reaction, suffice to say, was spectacular. You see, Ryuune being the tough, dangerous, beautiful "gal" she is, had one true peculiar weakness: she is weak against compliments and flattery concerning her femininity.

Now, imagine that fact, not to mention, as I learned later on in life, I was the first to ever address her in such a manner, the result was obvious. I successfully diffused the deteriorating situation in my favor: the pissed Corellian hellcat transformed into the blushing prepubescent school girl. Similarly, the dangerous tension in the atmosphere evaporated into embarrassment and absurd shock.

"Y-You...!" Ryuune stuttered, as I rolled over onto my back with some difficulty.

Feigning disinterest as I stared up at the ceiling lights, I did not have to look at her to see how red she was, though I still could not resist a sidelong glance just to be sure, "Well, _that_...did the trick, _ugh_, didn't it?"

"Wh-what are you-?!"

Indeed, I much prefer _this_ Ryuune Zoldark over the one who could have beaten me to death a few minutes ago.

"Y'know, I can really get used to the cute side of you, but methinks, we got somethin' more important to talk about, no?"

"W-We? T-Talk!? When the flaming _droyk_ was there a '**We**'-?"

"I already told you before, and no, this ain't got nothin' to do with you beating the **Man **into me. In fact, I respect you a lot for showing me just how weak I really am, right now."

"_Heeeeeeehhhh_?!"

"If you're shocked, I can actually talk like a _n-o-r-m-a-l _person; well, you learn lots of things, when you go through Dilos Island. One of them being: how to talk _basic shavit_ just like everyone else. Me? I just don't like communicatin' like _that_. My choice. But we're getting away from the issue here: **You**."

"Y-You little nosey prick!" Ryuune raged back at me, "You think I've got a _problem_?

I nodded, the picture of patience, "I already told you. I'm not going to ask; I'm not going to pry anything about you. What you did, who you were before, everything before you met me and we became battle buddies. I trusted that you'd come clean when I was all right with you and you were all right with me. But, guess what, Clever Girl? You just threw me a whole closet of bones, like tossing a life preserver out overboard-lost-at-sea-help-me-out-Mystra-dammit, and gave me the second beating of my life today!"

"The second...?"

"I'm going to take that as an S-O-S sign. Burning skies, it doesn't get much more obvious than that! So, **we **are going to talk about **you**."

"Wha...!"

"You are an _orphan_, aren't you?"

Ryuune froze, as if she had just been struck in the gut, her formerly flushed complexion turning a sickly pallor in an instant. I think I had just pierced the weak spot in her "armor".

"I know, the galaxy isn't that simple, the grass isn't green everywhere you go, and I'm one lucky sonuvablaster to have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth. In fact, I do damn well consider myself blessed, even if _That Man_ was never around."

Her expression twisted into a strained growl, "_Che_, and just who the hell do you think you are, Mister High and Mighty?"

There was an awkward pause. I had to quell the absurdly strong urge to answer her in my "true to form, over-the-top, with a soul of fire / seize the moment, moment of truth, face reality / kick all your reason to the curb / one world, one love, royal flush and I'm the Ace" style (an expression coined by Acous Verossa no less). Even to this day, I do not understand why every time somebody pops the magic question (usually the dastardly villain or villainess of the moment) I am, instantly, over come with the above impetus to answer.

Instead, I opted for dumbstruck stupidity, much more diplomatic, "...You don't know who the hell I am do you?"

"Of course, not! Why the FRAK would I know?!" she snarled back at me, indignantly.

Stars and Burning Skies, she does not know who I am? I was under the impression my father's name was practically infamous in the galaxy, if not famous at the least. ...though on second thought, I ought not to blame her, as she verily so had more pressing concerns in her youth before now.

"Eh, don't sweat it. You'll find out, eventually."

"What!?" she squawked in open ridicule.

Luckily, my patience saved the day yet again, "Look, how about we settle things with a bet, huh? Lay all the bad blood to rest and set things straight: I'm not your enemy. I don't look down on you. Stars, I respect you! You're strong. You're courageous. But by the Fates, are you angry! Suspicious! Fearful! Mistrusting! Not everyone in this bloody galaxy is against you, dammit. I'm supposed to be your battle buddy, and treating me like _shavit_ isn't going to get us anywhere! Respect is a two-way street, _Mirdala Dalal_'_ika_."

"Hmph, making a _bet _with a Corellian! Do you got _shavit_ for brains, dumbass?"

"If it'll get you to stop acting the _schutta_, and give me a chance, I don't mind the odds. After all, there's no such thing as _zero _chance to me. Burning skies and Holy Mystra! I _like _you; I want to be your **friend**, if you'd just let me!"

Suffice to say, the power of my "damning" words were brutally effective: a shrill girlish squeal squeaked its way from between Ryuune's grit teeth, as she hopped and skipped away, clamping her gloved hands over her ears and popped a squat. Blushing from head to toe, she was squirming on the spot in some unspeakably adorable display of conflicting emotions, the phrase "_Urusai_, _urusai_, _urusai_/ Shut up, shut up, shut up!" coming to mind for some bizarre reason.

Not one to count my blessings, I took this chance to grab my second wind and stand back up, and consider my odds for a moment, ignoring the clouding of the lightheaded sensation I felt. Yes, even with the Corellian girl completely off-balance, my chances of coming out of this last fight with her on top was slim. However, I intended to live up to my words and changing one percent to a thousand percent should not be too hard.

Of course, it did not take too long for Ryuune to recover either. She was still red and badly shaken, but some form of feminine machismo kept her righteously resolved to strike a "pose", and point a shaky condemning finger at me, from which this position of superiority came her indignant decree:

"P-Per-vert! I-Idiot! Fl-Flirt! B-Bugger cat-eared, skirt-chasing Gigolo! I'm-I'm --- n-not gonna be fool...!"

Ouch, ouch, ouch, and ouch...

"Well, take the bet then," I remarked, blandly, with the best deadpanned gaze I could muster, despite my inward raging embarrassment. I did not know what a gigolo was, but from the context of her condemnation, I had a pretty good idea... I think. "You 'n' me, woman-to-stupid, one more round: win by KO, **but **if I lay a hand and a punch on you, it's my win. Sound fair?"

"Hell yeah, you're on! You're hundred years too early to be thinkin' about laying a finger on me!"

Once more, we faced each other: the blonde-haired Corellian, especially eager, a frenetic energy barely restrained evident in her stance, as she hopped and skipped like a professional boxer. She was quite ready to beat the hell out of me. I, on other hand, had much more pressing concerns.

I almost slipped back into the same stance I used before, but then I realized my folly. My objective was not to win this fight; no, my only objective was to win my bet. Therefore, orthodox doctrine need not apply, and so, I opted to indulge in the foolishness of a novice, opting for a stance I had never practiced and imitating something I had only seen a hour or so ago from an eclectic veteran of "the arts".

It was a modified stance with an expected lead foot and rear foot, but my upper body remained neutral and upright, my lead hand in the fore clutched in a fist, and my striking fist cocked low and to the rear in a "chambered" position, palm facing up. I relaxed my body completely, instead of keeping it partially tensed, like we had been taught. Compared to the solid "Basic Warrior" stance, I had a majority of my vitals exposed, a dangerous if not suicidal proposition.

Even Ryuune picked up on it, her blue eyes widening in bewilderment, which was exactly what I wanted. My earlier fear that the spar was going to hurt me a lot more than it was going to hurt her had already come true, but I was determined to return the favor, just a little bit. "No pain, no gain" as the idiom goes, right?

The air tensed, as we circled each other, just moments away from the decisive blow. Ocean and sky about to collide on the distant, far away horizon...well, at least that seemed like the suitable poetic metaphor, even if it was wholly impossible by any good measure of logic. Then again, I was in the business, now, of making the impossible possible, so why not?

"Hope your _shebs_'re in gear, because this is it!" shouted Ryuune, her radiant blue eyes flashing with fury.

Even as she came bearing down on me with all the intensity of a screaming rancor, my mind flashed one last time over possible courses of action. My success relied solely on using the blonde-haired girl's wild, vindictive nature against her: that is, any rational person, knowing the winning conditions, would go straight for a haymaker or a cross to my face. She, certainly, has incapacitated me before, proof of her superior strength and skill, and can do it again.

However, my hope was that she would attack my present glaring weak point instead: my stomach. The Corellian hellcat had good reason to believe that her one-two combination (lower torso to head) worked very well against me, as in these two bouts, I had poorly defended myself. Not for a lack of trying, but I simply did not have the reflexes to keep up with her, **yet**.

Well...

"_Uuuuuuryyyyyyaaaaaa_!"

...here it comes.

_**Whamm**_!

Oh, flaming hell that hurt...!

I have never been hit by the buttstroke of a blaster rifle before, nor have I been hit by something as ridiculous as a jackhammer (not the weaponized equivalent, mind you; _those_ murder you). Even though I have been preparing myself for the blow, and I luckily managed to time my tense just right, Ryuune's right straight winded me again, forcefully expelling the air through my nostrils and grit teeth. My eyes bugged and my legs felt like jelly, as a dull paralyzing pain erupted from my stomach outwards.

I sensed myself teetering dangerously backwards from the blow; my vision blurring, seeing double, cross-eyed, and dimming. She was right in front of me, a split second of time, my lead hand hovering beside her seemingly harmless, but I had no idea which Ryuune Zoldark to grab. I could make it, just barely; now or never...

If I could not trust my eyes, then I won't bother with them at all.

Surrendering myself to the Fates, I lunged out boldly with my lethargic limbs, senses shot for an instant, and reacted with all the force I could muster into a valiant uppercut. I could not feel the impact. I could not feel anything, except a pervasive heat around me. There was creeping darkness, as if I was slipping somewhere far away, but even so, I felt a bizarre surge of confidence as I chuckled my "hurrah", defying any other outcome, except one...

"I win."

* * *

I had **fainted**, apparently, yesterday. Turns out the Corellian hellcat had hit me a lot harder than I thought she did, not that Nagi Dai Artai minded, terribly so. If anything, he thought it was --- _cute_ --- and that we were getting along just fine.

"Such is the perilous road of **tough **love..._pffttt_, Ah! Hahaha!" so he cackled, when the shrew little puck came to "pick me up" from the _medica _clinic.

Honestly, must they resort to dumping me into a bacta tank every time something goes wrong? I am starting to become fed up with the sickly sweet aroma from after each treatment that clings to me like cologne. What were they planning? that I should be as cotton candy for the remainder of my years here at Atlas?

Preposterous.

"I wouldn't mind eating _you _up either way-_nyan_," Lotte giggled with a devilish gleam in her eyes, "Though, Cotton Candy _Chrosuke _sounds so naughty!"

Oh dear, did I say that aloud? ...wait a minute, when did I become this "_Chrosuke_"? What does that mean? I thought I was "_Kurosuke_"? What's next? "_Erosuke_"!?

"_Urghhh_...i-if...y-you...ss-s-say...so..._argh_...Lotte," I grunted, as I ran along on her special obstacle "racetrack" under one-point-two times greater gravity than normal. I was doomed to be sore in the morning, certainly.

Was this her way tongue-in-cheek way of punishing me over my "lack of concern" over my fainting spell? Granted, I understand it can lead to some serious complications, though more importantly it was a sign I was exhausting myself. Naturally, she asked why I was in such "_Sith-_damned hurry", which I, unfortunately out of necessity, had to evade with a half-truth.

"I need to get stronger, faster, smarter..."

"But for what?" must have been the thought that crossed her mind. Suffice to say, the cat-eared woman is much brighter than her bubbly, wild personality does her justice, and worse, she had not been happy that I had **lied **to her. Of course, I will apologize at the earliest opportunity once the first phase of my operation was a success, and do my best to get back into her good graces.

I swear by the Stars that I am terribly, terribly sorry for resorting to such measures, especially to someone I had every confidence in to watch my back in a battle. However, I could not risk getting Lieutenant Lotte Lieze involved, as my affairs did not follow the black and white conventions of warfare. My struggle was...

...what was the worth of my struggle, come to think of it?

"_Oy_, what are you spacing out for?" Ryuune asked me, casually, from across the table. It was brunch time, so we had stopped for chow at a dining hall between classes.

I blinked, suddenly pulled out from the timeless world of my thoughts and back into the true time of reality, slipping by at the hand of a heartbeat.

"Huh?"

Here was the other mystery. I have been trying unsuccessfully to uncover for past several days, now. Ryuune Zoldark had changed, a complete metamorphosis into a different phase of character altogether. Apparently, I was in the company of her other well-known self, at least to her fellow Bronzo classmates, which earned her a fanclub no less:

"Ryuune Zoldark, Miss Cool _and _Spicy."

On the bright side, we can almost converse like normal sentient beings, most of the time. That is, if a subject happened to come up that was "unsavory", I would be immediately rebuked by a stinging, curt reply. Her words, frankly, sparked such a convulsion of embarrassment that I wanted to run outside and dig myself a foxhole to hide in.

Alack, I could ill afford to go indulge in such impetus, but I have to admit I very much enjoy sparring with this _other _Ryuune Zoldark. I have been, actually, learning quite a lot: for example, thinking had its part to play in a fight obviously but much of the work falls down to reflex, aided by instinct. Of course, she admitted she had no clue if the same philosophy would work in a "Magic Duel"; in theory, with a strong enough defense, you could think your way through an entire "duel", acting when you only want to, while the other idiot is flying around doing all sorts of wasteful actions.

The danger to "turtling"? For every ultimate defense, there will be an ultimate attack to counter it. The opposite should hold true as well, which we should discover in the new school year come this Apirilis.

I, on the other hand, would find out much sooner. But I digress: what I want to is what happened to bring about this change? Did I actually manage to "win" that bet?

Suffice to say, she was not answering. There always seemed to be some good excuse for her to evade my line of questioning. Of course, I was not deterred and persistently pursued her, only to be just as stubbornly evaded, or worse, "tricked." I had no idea I could fall for something as simple as, "Hey, look! It's a Z-Ninety-Five Incom Subpro _Headhunter_, customized with..." and so on. Who knew I possessed the inherent masculine fascination with high-speed, and potentially, destructive machinery?

Yes, I am looking forward to my "Flight School", my next destination after I complete my training here at Atlas, wherefore I can earn my pilot's certification --- "a pilot's license" if you will --- and attain the much coveted Flight spell protocol. Atlas, the Giant's Pit --- is a "Ground School" you see: two dimensional warfare, urban conflict, and vice-versa culminating into "The Basics" is what we are meant to learn here. Included here at Atlas are the opportunities to get various ground vehicle certifications, i.e. repulsor lift craft/speeders, tanks, forklifts, walkers, etc. Of course, you can still pick them up later in your career, not to mention weapon, martial skills, magic, engineering, etc., certifications are continuous.

The opportunities for education and self-improvement never ends.

Ah, but forgive me for I digress. In the end, the best answer I could get out of her, truly, was this:

"Call it a draw. You're not a snooty born too high for his _shebs_ Platinum anymore. You are a bloody boy scout wet behind the ears and over his head Captain Obvious Aurum. And for your information, don't even pretend that we are friends to make yourself look cool. We're battle buddies: you watch my six; I watch your twelve o'clock since all you seem to be good for is the eyes lolly-gagging out the back of your head, understand?"

I do not know what kind of victory to call this, more so of a concession, methinks. Of course, I cannot demean the worth that I had gained in station before Ryuune, as my relationship with her now was light years ahead of where we used to stand, for which I was happy. But, being who I am, I was disappointed I could not confirm the truth of my struggle; still, an improvement is an improvement, and speaking of which...

...this brings us back full circle to my other concern: the worth of my struggle.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.8 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. And lo behold, the story keeps on trucking, with some nice world building details on the side. Now, there is one thing I wanna talk about, since the issue is probably going to turn up, if it is not already bothering you all:

That is, the plausibility of six year olds acting so much like adults, and on top of that, six years old beating the crap out of each other "for real". I am certain we are all familiar to some degree, if not at least heard about child soldiers in third world countries, and cripes, we are dealing with an anime here that had two nine year olds going at it with potentially lethal consequences, where "Magic" substitutes for good old fashioned guns, bullets, bombs, swords, etc.

Normally, I would not bring this issue up, but since I am legitimizing this whole business big time with the Star Wars canonizing on the side, it is my duty to deal with this in a realistic and professional manner; the fact I serve in the armed forces in real life makes this duty all the more important. Not to mention, what you all are reading here is essentially going to set the bar in "Power Standings" for the rest of the saga. That is, particular "Kids" like Chrono, Ryuune, Nagi, etc., who have gone through the Battle School and have received all of this training since a very young age are going to be on a completely different Level from Nanoha and Co. They may or can be outclassed in terms of raw power/potential, but they are still leagues beyond the girls by virtue of one thing:

They are "Professional Natural Born Killers / Warfighters / Soldiers", geniuses in the same vein as Ender Wiggin and his cohorts from Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game series. Ender, for God's sake, killed a kid when he was only five years old, albeit unknowingly, in an act of self-defense. That's nuts.

And why are they necessary?

You see, the Bureau (to my interpretation in this AU) is a paramilitary organization, which splits them up into two houses: the civilian side and then there is the military side. They still need "Warriors / Soldiers" even though the Clone Wars is over in order to fulfill their maritime duties, as the Galaxy's new "policemen" in this unstable post-war era. At the same time, contract mages and "career commissioned officer mages" like Nanoha and Co. have a role to play too as the softer, kinder side of the Bureau, if you will, who have reservations against genocide, blasting in all guns blazing where by-standers can be caught up in the mess, and the like. Ideally, they will be able to convince fellows like Chrono, not to launch an all out blood bath, and consider a more peaceable alternative to deadly force.

All branches of the armed forces, have a civilian component to complement them, and help them handle "Grey" situations that would or could otherwise be considered unsavory in the sole hands of the armed forces, i.e. Lost Property Riot Force 6. Ideally, the military folks are there to provide security and the muscle, so the civies boys and girls can do their job, and hopefully, nobody gets hurt. If the _shavit _hits the fan, you bet the body count is going to start piling up high real fast, with or without Nanoha and Co. adding to the firefight, because folks like Chrono and Ryuune are going to step up, take charge, kick ass, get everyone out in one piece, then they're going to go back and make those dumbasses regret ever opening fire in the first place.

Fighting wars and killing people is their business, and though they have different MOS's (Mission Occupational Specialty), they all contribute towards the same end, that is how to fight a War: better, faster, quicker, etc. That's why the Battle School exists. Granted, yes, Nanoha and Co. can certainly wipe the floor with some Bronzo graduate bozo in Supply and Logistics. But if they go up against a Platinum graduate who has an MOS in Infantry with a billet in Force Recon, or Black Ops (God forbid)...? The girls are screwed. Black Ops guy/gal will just nail 'em from "sideways", and with Intelligence helping them out, they could make the whole damned thing look like an "accident".

Now, I won't answer why Chrono and Co. are "Warfighting Geniuses" here, as that's a topic I'll be answering soon enough, the first hint, if you will, in the story.

And with that said, we arrive at another interesting topic for this chapter: why did Chrono get OWNed so badly? Well, it's a bunch of things. For starters, he is out of practice and does not have the same fight-or-flight mentality as he had back in Recruit Training; in other words, he has become soft. His lack of experience does not help matters. And suffice to say, Ryuune is **not **your average girl (the reasons for which will become clear, eventually).

Now that I have said my peace, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 17 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	9. Entry 1 9: Gutcheck

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.9:

The Gut Check, The Cat, and The Girl

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

...this brings us back full circle to my other concern: the worth of my struggle.

I have not thought about it for some time to be honest. It will soon be almost a month since I started my venture, and three nights from now, I will be making first major step in escalating this conflict. I had no army to speak of, just an informant, and an unlikely, accomplice in the form of Ryuune Zoldark, whom still did not know of my true intentions. It is not like I am trying to hide the truth from her, but she has not asked, and so I will not tell her otherwise.

The less she knows, the less of a danger she will be in. In fact, we have been lucky so far that there has not been another attempt by a hit squad from the Disciplinary Committee. Why they have not acted as of late, I know not, but I am grateful all the same. I suppose, I could sit down and evaluate my "quest" so far, but I already know what my answer will be...

I needed someone I could talk to, not a warmonger like Nagi Dai Artai, not an unawares "civil servant" like Lotte Lieze, and not an involved "civilian" like Ryuune Zoldark either. I needed someone outside the system, gazing in through the looking glass, with an eye of wisdom from experience. But, who could I call for? If I told Mother, Grandmother, or Grandfather, they would find me out right away, and I could not have that happening.

And lo, as if by divine providence then, lying in bed, I reached over to the HoloNet receiver phone on my bedside table to dial in a number I recalled from one of my correspondences. It was late at night, almost midnight, and I did not know if he would answer. My instincts told me otherwise that **he **would come, unlike _That Man_: too busy saving the galaxy, a time to kill, a time to die, and no time for his only...!

"Ah, Chrono, this is an unexpected surprise," a familiar firm baritone, with his rich, youthful timbre, pricked my ears with a chuckle.

Caught by surprise, I lost all sense of bearing and hopped off my bed, standing at attention ramrod straight before the ghostly holographic apparition that appeared in my bedroom. I could only thank the Stars he could not see my blush very well, as the image quality over the HoloNet still left something to be desired. The awkwardness of the situation, though, was not alleviated at all, because both of us were still in our uniforms of the day, disregarding the late hour.

Lieutenant-Commander Tetsuya Onodera gaped, dumbstruck, at me for some reason I could not fathom at the moment.

"G-G-g-Good evening, Sir!" I stuttered out, shrilly. Oh, thank goodness, Nagi was not home right now. He would never let me live it down if he heard me speak in such a pathetic "childish" manner.

"Well...erm, good evening," replied the Lieutenant-Commander, after a moment of thought to gather his wits about him, "at ease, cadet."

"A-Aye, Sir!"

"Er, you realize we're both not on duty right now, yes?"

"Y-Yes, Sir, but I-I...er, was taken aback to see you still in uniform."

"Oh, this?" he laughed sheepishly, "I just got home myself when you called me up! Ha ha; relax, have a seat. If I'm sitting down, then there's no reason for you to be standing up."

"Th-thank you, Sir," I obliged him, feeling my own hapless grin getting the better of me.

Technically, this would be the first time I have had a real conversation with the Lieutenant-Commander, having met him just around two and a half months ago. I have been keeping regular correspondence with him after a casual fashion, as we have exchanged roughly five e-mails, constrained by our respective schedules. Our relationship was understandably a slow one, with both parties trying to figure the other out at the behest of a "middlewoman", namely my mother.

Of course, I already had a degree of respect for the man, as he was the one who stopped me back at graduation from attempting to rip Sergeant Major Walon Vau a new hole where the sun naught ought to shine. I doubt I would have succeeded, but I would have dragged him to hell with me (so I hope). Nevertheless, trying to bridge the age gap between myself and the Lieutenant-Commander was a daunting task: I was a young man in a child's body, and as for him, well, I do not even know his situation.

But for what it was worth, he seemed to have not changed, since I last saw him. Yes, he was weary from the day, sitting down in his armchair, likely in his study at his residence. In a way, by observing him, I can imagine myself some day being in his own boots, which was almost worth a laugh, except for the fact I was not destined to be...wait, what was the Lieutenant-Commander's MOS anyways? I recall he was part of some future weapons and tactics evaluation troop, but that was just a billet, not his "job" according to the Bureau.

"Ha ha, well, I've got to say you've grown since the last time we met," joked the brown-haired man, breaking the ice valiantly. He had much more courage than I. "I know, I've already said this but happy birthday, Chrono."

"Th-Thank you, Sir," I replied to him, feeling strangely embarrassed for some reason.

"Please, addressing me as Onodera or Mister Onodera is fine. I understand, if you want to maintain a level of professionalism; to speak with me on a first name basis from your position is a little _awkward_."

"Aye, S-sir...uh, M-Mis-ter Onodera."

"Hmm, I guess that still sounds off. All right then, how about this? Call me 'Tetsuya-_san_'; it's a little cultural knowledge I learned from the Captain back in the war. Well, he kind of forced me to learn after he heard my full name, but anyways-! The -_san_ suffix is an honorific from his native culture that conveys a title of respect, you see."

"Tetsuya-_san_..." I tested the manner address, which rolled, oddly enough, naturally off my tongue.

Clearly, Tetsuya approved by the smile on his face, "Nicely done. In that case, you'll be 'Chrono-_kun_', an honorific appropriate for young man such as yourself, sounds fair?"

"Yes, Sir...uh, I-I mean, Tetsuya-san!" He thinks of me as a young man and not a boy? ...Wh-why, I feel flattered.

"Ha ha, don't worry about it. Anyways, I'll be sure to give you a present when you get back home in the spring. I would have sent one on time, if Captain Harlaown hadn't told me at the last minute."

I **blinked**. You can imagine my shock at a man I had made only a recent acquaintance of making such a bold statement.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

Now, it was his turn to be shocked, eyeing me a dumbfounded expression, "Ch-Chrono-kun, you haven't received your birthday presents yet?"

"Well, err, no, Tetsuya-san. We have a tradition of giving gifts in person. Mother wanted to come all the way here to give me mine, but I asked her politely to wait until my return, much to her somewhat dissatisfaction."

"Oh...so that's why she was..."

"Yes?"

"Ah! Ah ha ha! N-Nothing, nothing at all!"

If it is nothing at all, why are you overreacting so much?

"S-So, wh-what's the occasion for, Chrono-kun?"

Stars, he is changing the subject! What in Mystra's blessing could have happened to Mother?

"To be honest, I didn't think we were close enough yet that you'd want to call me, but if it's something I can help you with me, my power is yours."

Argh, dammit! I am shooting off an e-mail to her as soon as this is over with...

"Well, Tetsuya-san, I happen to be in need of advice," I told him, masking my inner fiery anguish with a feigned nervous laugh.

"I'll be damned; what is it?" he inquired eagerly, intrigued by my apparent plight.

I felt horrible about lying yet again. How I pray this does not become a habit of mine to spin illusions and feed that little fiend of paranoia hiding in the hearts of all. Still, I could not afford to compromise my covert actions, and therefore, fed to him a fanciful thought experiment, a militaristic philosophical question if you will, set in a fantastic medieval land of my creation.

"Hmm, that's quite the problem, Berserga the Blue Knight, got himself into..." Tetsuya rubbed his chin in contemplation.

I watched him patiently, holding my breath for his answer, yet I felt uneasy all the same. Did he not notice my lie, truly? If that is so, then I fear ever more for my sense of justice. To lie so easily to those I would have be my friends and comrades is a rather unsavory proposition.

"But before I give you my take, care to answer a question for me, Chrono-kun?"

Now, that gave me a start, as I was not expecting to be questioned in turn, "I-If I am able, Tetsuya-san."

"Ha ha ha, don't worry. It should be easy enough for you."

"Very well."

He took a deep breath, and looked me straight in the eye, with such an intensity that I did not expect from a man so seemingly mild-mannered. Only when he ascertained that he had my complete attention (myself standing metaphorically on pins and needles in anxious anticipation) did he speak:

"Do you regret your **fate**?"

...damn, Sir. As my former fellows from Dilos Island would say, "_Frak_! Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Vau set us up the bomb! _Frak_!" Yes, it was that bad for my young heart then, and looking back with the gift of hindsight, I hate to say it, but even age and experience would not make answering the oft-asked question any easier to answer.

"Ex-excuse me?" I breathed, stupefied.

"Oh dear, I think I've asked a rather difficult question, haven't I?" chuckled the older man.

"But, but, why, Tetsuya-san?"

"Chrono-kun, you realize that yourself and other children like you aren't _normal_, especially by Galactic standards, right?"

"Well, to an extent... Grandmother and Grandfather have touched upon the subject."

"How different do you think you are?"

"Err, that's..." I felt deathly self-conscious, as I considered an answer. I never thought about this particular issue in terms of "Fate" before... Fate, an inevitable predetermined outcome, unyielding, unbreakable...?

Death, destruction, or ruin...

"Let me give you an idea," Tetsuya leaned over the side, propping his chin upon his clenched fist, "By way of the Galaxy, you're an even bigger, ahem, **freak of nature **than the _Jedi _were, and that's phrasing it kindly."

...ouch, I never thought of myself as an aberration, and certainly not an abomination either.

"The Galaxy fears children like you blessed by _Mystra_'_s Light_ more than any child touched by _The Force_, seemingly destined some day to be the Sith Lord of _Sith_. Combining both together would likely start an all out witch hunt for the said unfortunate child before he or she would mature and become the unmaker of us all."

"...B-but why? Do we not have a mandate from the Galactic Senate to be the protectors of the..."

"Chrono-kun, not everything is as it seems at first glance, not to mention, not all of our kind choose to serve, or in the least, behave as proper, upstanding citizens. The allure of power toys with wicked delight upon the hearts of mortals."

"...S-Sorry, I was..." I apologized to him hurriedly with an embarrassed blush, realizing the obvious folly of my naivety.

"Ha ha ha, so there is a child still living in you," so he smiled, an unexpected ambience of nostalgia radiating from his person. I did not know whether to be insulted or flattered.

"Excuse me?"

"Chrono-kun, do you realize the price you've paid just by being born?"

"A price?"

"_Magick_ has enlightened you. No ordinary boy or girl your age would already have the mental faculties of a young adult. By the time you're twelve cycles old, you will be an adult in spirit, but a youth in body and experience. Of course, amongst _magi_, you and the children attending the Battle School are technically geniuses, as you have all '_awakened_' so strongly."

"'_Awakened_', S-Sir?"

"Our bodies still need time to grow, but our minds **awaken** much faster: Mystra's _Gift of Wisdom _to Her children and those She deemed worthy of Her light, so say various scholars and think-tanks who've been studying the _Linker Awakening Effect _for generations."

"Huh?"

"It's the _mana_, Chrono-kun. Even with generations and near countless millennia, we still don't understand why it affects our physiology so, or how it interacts with _linker cores_ exactly, but there most certainly is some kind of correlation. Now, most magically blessed children don't develop as fast as you, but even so, they're leagues ahead of everyone else in the galaxy. From a military mindset, this makes us ideal, ahem, _warriors_ out from the gates, and combined with our longevity, natural or magi-tech enhanced, we make a standing army that could control the galaxy with ease."

...well, that's a sobering thought...

"Fortunately, we as a people aren't too numerous, as we don't understand why some people are born _magi_ and some are not. But all this speculation and theory is besides my point... Do you feel _cheapened _that your innocence was **robbed **from you?"

My innocence?

"I'm afraid, unlike other children, you'll never have that benefit of the doubt, nor the opportunity to be a child. Everything you're learning, everything you're doing now --- is a means to an end. Personally, I'm not a religious man, but should Mystra exists, then She is, no matter how all powerful and all knowing, undoubtedly, a _cruel _woman to make you and others like you bear such a cross."

Stars...this is heavy, and I do not even know what to make all of it.

"Ho boy, I think I've burdened you with troublesome question from a jaded, defective wizard," Tetsuya laughed, cheerily, "please, don't tell Lindy...e-er! I-I mean, Captain Harlaown! Please, Chrono-kun? She'd give me hell for troubling you."

Uh...whoa! Whoa! Wait a second here, did he just call himself a _defective _wizard?

"...T-Tetsuya-san, what do you mean by a _defective_ wizard?" I asked him, hesitantly.

I was curious about his meaning for I had never heard of such a thing before, but alas, I may have asked something much too personal, too soon. Sadly, I was right too. The Lieutenant-Commander good cheer fell into sudden gloom, his sullen eyes darting away, unable to meet my gaze, and his body language taut and defensive.

"Hm, I think I've let slip something I didn't meant to," he murmured aloud to none in particular.

Great, now I feel like an ass for prying. I should not have said a word at all!

"Chrono-kun, can you do me a favor?"

"O-Of course, S-Sir! Any-Anything at all!" I answered him eagerly, hoping against doubt that I could still redeem myself and fix the deathly rift that had appeared between us.

"Please, don't tell your mother about this. I promised myself I'd tell her about it when the time is right, but for now, I think you'll be the first to hear the story, when I'm ready, all right?"

"B-But, Sir! Y-You don't have to-"

"Ha ha, I hate to burden you even more, but you deserve to know the truth. And boy, is it one helluva bittersweet pill!"

His tone was dark and sad. Is this why he called himself jaded as well?

"This one's a long story, though, nor is it a pretty one either. It'll take a while to tell the whole thing, so don't be too eager to hear it. You probably won't hear it all until you're a grown man, if I have it my way. But, for now, let me come through on my end of the bargain and answer your thought-question, hm?"

The atmosphere had taken a down turn for the worst, heavy and moody, but even so, I wanted to hear his answer. I did not plan, I assure you, to become involved with the Lieutenant-Commander on such a level, as we had just gone from acquaintance to mutual conspirators in one conversation. Granted, I feel like the fool who had gone and apprenticed himself to a wizard, wearing shoes to tight for him, pissed drunk, and a little angry-loony to be saving the world.

"I think Berserga should act as his heart tells him, despite his unenviable position. A lake of our own making, left alone too long will stagnate and rot, killing everyone who lives and depends upon the water. He is the river of change coming to break that choking dam. Yes, there will be pain. There will be suffering. There will be anger. It is not an easy path to walk."

...ugh...

"But, such is the nature of change, and as the architect of that change, he'll have to bear that responsibility: that is, constructing a new order that will administer to what he has wrought. Hopefully, with compassionate fairness, even after he's long gone. They do not have to be absolute impartial judges of the law; in fact, they don't need to be. They only need to do what is right. Of course, knowing what is right and how to do it --- is the difficult part."

Well, easier said than done.

"It'll be up to Berserga to set an example, a standard if you will. Though, as for the knight himself, I think he should take one more lesson to heart: if he thinks he has nothing to lose, besides his own life, he's dead wrong. Do you know why?"

Huh?

"The strength of bonds: his masters, his foster parents, those whose lives he had changed in adventures, friends, acquaintances, admirers, and even his rivals! He did not become the man he is today alone. Right now, he stands to gain and stands to lose everything, as a warrior, and as a man. If he flees, he will surely live to see another day, but doubt and self-loathing will haunt him for the rest of his day, for I can tell he's that kind of man. Extraordinary situations like this don't come around too often, and rarer still, someone with the power to make a definitive difference, more than what one man or woman alone should be able to accomplish."

I considered his words, my heart thudding wildly in my chest, as if it meant to burst forth from my very body. I was excited. I was afraid. Yet, I felt...!

"I believe in you, Chrono-kun. If anyone can do it, you can. Not because you're **His **son, not even because you are a born genius amongst _magi_, none of that matters. You are Chrono Harlaown, raised by a kind woman and her wise parents, whom love you more dearly than life itself: a strong boy, who still has much to learn, but with a heart so golden, so big that even he does not realize the breadth of its power yet."

I was speechless. Was this what Tetsuya, a veteran of the war and a man so accomplished, thought of me, truly? I --- I do not know what to say.

"And I can feel it in my blood," Tetsuya said to me with grave seriousness, "you are destined to do great things, **but** it will be long difficult road, filled with hardship, and I dare say more than a few heart breaks, ha ha ha."

To be honest, I have never planned to live a particularly eventful life, yet from the way he spoke; he was so sure of himself that I believed his words to be true. But, why me? Were my circumstances so extraordinary that I would be chosen for such a fate?

And if so, by who?

"Ah, it's late!" yawned Tetsuya, a tired smile blooming on his earnest, handsome face, "it's going to be another savage '''day in the morning. No point in losing sleep trying to understand everything I've said. It'll all come clear to you, when you need it. For now, just focus on coming back home in one piece in the spring. Lindy...I-I mean...the captain, your mother, misses you a lot, and you know better than to make her cry, right?"

I nodded in agreement, my own eyelids feeling heavy with imminent sleep.

Get some rest, Chrono."

"...yes...dad..."

There was a vague gasp of breath, I think, or was it simply the rustle of the blankets as I crumpled back into bed? A spell of slumber had overcome me, suddenly, you see. Of course, I assure you, there is no such connection that Lieutenant-Commander Tetsuya Onodera could possibly be my father. Like it or not, I am the flesh and blood son of the late Admiral Clyde Leo Harlaown (Mystra guide him in the Dreaming beyond), but I wonder...

...for such a phrase to escape my lips subconsciously, was it not the faintest hope of mine that a man liken to _Him_ yet different from _That Man_ could become the father I had always longed for?

* * *

The next day flew by in a distracted blur, and before I knew it, the fateful evening of the night that was to be my first "Night of Nights" was upon me. It was a textbook case of nerves: an electric frenzy of fear, dread, and excitement in anticipation of the first fearsome crack of artillery, supporting the first charge up the field. My mind, occupied entirely by the coming hour, could not be bothered at all with the usual motions of my life, which suffice to say was an alarming sign to two females in particular, who noticed my obvious "distraction".

* * *

"Thanks for the hard work!" Lieutenant Lotte Lieze congratulated me at the end of our training session, late that Friday afternoon.

I was still a ways off from being comfortable with our training regimen under duress of "1.2 G", and she had wanted originally to start me at "1.1 G". You see, her fear was that I would be taking more stress than my body could reasonably handle, which would have some rather unpleasant consequences. We had a "small" argument over the issue when we first started actually, but suffice to say, I was a much better "arguer" than she. Of course, victory did not stop me from feeling regrettable and shallow at my own selfishness.

I believe I will have to make better than good on that "Date" I promised her, when I am commissioned in another odd eight years from now; our age gap and any scandalous "public opinion" be damned. I will not have it be known that I, Chrono C. Harlaown Le Fay, am a man who would go back on his word. ...well, I am not quite a man yet, but I will be some day.

...if I manage to survive that long.

"You're...w-welcome..." I replied awkwardly, between heaving breaths.

My camouflage utilities and skivies were soaked through and through, proof of my hard work, if the prodigious sheen of sweat upon my brow were not enough. Thank the Stars for water and plenty of _Gatoradepower_, and whoever invented the shower: the former for keeping me from passing out and the latter for the cleansing I desperately needed. I was so soaked, I swore that the sweat from my feet had penetrated straight through my socks and into my combat boots!

I pray I will be used to this by the time I am a second year. Truth be told, I am not looking forward to summer classes to make up for my awkward enrollment "out of season", as most candidates arrive in Aprilis when the new school year begins. However, I want to graduate on time with everyone else, so I will bear with the unpleasantness of even more studying and hard work, when I could be spending my break with my family instead.

"_Kyaa_! But, you smell! Too strong, _nyaan_!" she complained a moment later, feigning teary eyes in a characteristic histrionic gesture.

I sighed, knowing the deadpanned part of the foil I must play, "Lotte, I do not believe there is any brand of antiperspirant deodorant capable combating the shear unholy output of sweat and odor I excrete every time we go through this exercise."

"_Kyaa_! That's why I told you, we should start you off with less G's."

"...Lotte, you realize I would be training just as hard regardless."

"..._Nyaan_, you're so horrible, Chrono!"

"Me? I beg your pardon? Have I grown gossamer wings, a fork tail, and a halo, when I was not aware?" Pardon the analogy, but if she had known whom I was referring to, it would have been quite the kick.

"You! Young Man! Showers! Now!" she shot me "The Look", with her arms akimbo. It was an obvious sign that play time was over, and the cat-eared woman did not want to see my face until Monday for fear I would kill all the joy in her life.

"I shall make it so," I obeyed, happy for the much needed shower and recuperation.

I had no idea what was about to happen, to say the least: a confrontation, and one I could not just walk away from either. It was the right time; it was the right words that was a melody in resonance to my spirit. I could not ignore it for to do so would be cowardice, and to deny myself.

"_Ne_, Chrono..." Lotte asked me, as I began to leave.

Her tone was so uncharacteristically meek and shy, so unlike her that I nearly tripped over my own toes such was my inexplicable shock. The Lieutenant Lotte Lieze I knew was always --- how should I say? --- gung-ho, never-say-die, and a young woman, who was more than happy to flirt and flaunt her beauty. Call it vanity, if you wish, but if anyone wants to take issue with her behavior, they would likely have to wade through legions of her admirers, myself last, before they could even dream of laying an unsavory hand on her.

Flushing red and awkward, I turned to face her, _slowly_, not knowing what to expect. What I saw made my heart skip a beat, as her vulnerable eyes struck me down, and exacted a stutter from my lips:

"Y-Yes, Lotte?"

"If..."

"What if?"

"...um, you... You trust me, right-_nya_?"

Do I trust her? Why, of course, I do! It's just that...

"So...if. If you... You were in trouble...you'd...let me know, right?"

Oh dear...

Her powder blue eyes struck me once more, pleading with me to divulge the truth, "Some...something is bothering you, isn't it? You smell more worried than usual..._really _worried. And... And, well, you're... You're distracted! You haven't been paying attention at all in class lately. You're just...! Spacing out, some...somewhere!"

Tsk, tsk; it appears I had already lost my bearing long before my heart-to-heart with Tetsuya and this day. What a mess, and here I thought I had done a good job of hiding my own distress, but not good enough to fool someone who had such intimate interaction with me. I loathe to think what will happen at my spar with Ryuune Zoldark if I do not manage to shape up within an hour or so.

In the meantime, I had to deal with Lotte Lieze, her usually upbeat expression marred by self-loathing, emphasized by the droop in her feline ears and her eyes on the verge of tears...

"I-I...I know I don't look like I'm very dependable-_nyan_... Always laughing, flirting, acting all irresponsible like a schoolgirl... B-But! But y'know, I-!"

Stars, she does not have to make me feel anymore the villain than I already am, and with that last nail in the cross, I set my things down and marched crisply over to her. My bold approach startled Lotte, a yelp escaping her lips as she promptly went rigid in a defensive feline fashion. I wondered idly if she had experienced something similar prior for I swore I caught a gleam of fear in her powder blue eyes.

Of course, there was one slight snag in my impulsive plan: Lotte was much taller than me, so I was forced to compromise...

"Lotte, please kneel. I'm too short to reach you like a man should," I informed her in the most bland, deadpanned tone I could muster.

Otherwise, I would have laughed at myself, for it was indeed a laughable, pitiable request to make. Granted, I expected her to laugh but was stunned instead to see the lieutenant obey my request, with all the expressed haste of a command from --- not a superior officer --- but someone much higher. Eagerly, she gazed at me, feline ears pricked, and her tail swishing this way and that; I was taken aback, to say the least. It was as if she had reverted back into a child.

Come to think of it, just how old was she?

"Lotte..." I began, once more in dry tones.

I suppose, I can ask her when the time is right, some years down from now.

"Y-Yes?" she squeaked, in a very un-Lotte-like manner.

Even I cannot explain my next set of actions for I barely gave it a thought: I embraced her, and pulled her in close, as if my small frame were to shield her. She gasped, understandably at my forwardness, a hand of mine drifting over to scratch affectionately behind her feline ears, which caused her to "melt" into my arms with, well, a feminine purr. It was awkward and a touch absurd I dare say: a child of just six cycles and a month comforting a grown young woman?

My wildest imagination could not dream of such a scenario, but here I was living it. I whispered in a low voice, meant for just our ears, as she nuzzled against me, every bit the cat:

"Lotte Lieze, you are a wonderful young woman. It saddens me to see you doubt yourself. Honored I am that you would place your trust and hope in myself, so young, and so naive. But, this is not a battle that I can have you accompany me for it is neither just nor necessary. I act purely out of selfishness and my own sense of justice; call it a Man's Fight, if you will. That is why I cannot ask for your help, nor can you follow me. You must not."

It was the first time, I ever said those words to another that they must not follow me, and alas, it would not be the last time either.

"_Nyan_... You're horrible, Chrono," she whimpered pathetically, "Just...just like Daddy Gil Graham. Making Lotte and Aria stay home, then. And now, sending Lotte here...to you. But...but that's why I like you so much too, maybe?"

What!?

* * *

_Thwack_!

A conspiracy...

_Fwhoosh_...

A conspiracy...!

_Krak_!

It had to be some kind of conspiracy!

**Thud**!

My chain of troubled thoughts was broken by the sharp impact of being thrown into mat, eliciting a sharp hiss between my clenched teeth that threatened to chew through the mouthguard. The pain was excruciating on my back and shoulders, not to mention my head had taken some trauma despite the headguard's protective pads, judging by the black splotches coloring my vision. However, the ills of the body were the least of my concerns.

"That's it!" Ryuune Zoldark spat out her mouthguard, throwing her gloved hands up in the air in complete disgust, "I've had _it _with you, Harlaown."

I coughed, struggling vainly to sit up, "Wh...wha-what?"

"You're being disgusting! Being absolutely _disgusting_!"

"...excuse...me?"

"Don't play dumb with me, jackass! You've been a hundred-percent _disgusting _to me these past couple of days, zoning out on fumes up in Flaming Cloud Chrono. I thought you were finally starting to learn something, and then all of a sudden, you just turn _disgusting _on me. I don't **care **what you got on your mind, dammit! When you're in this ring with me, We. Are. Sparring. not wasting our frakking time, and damn well **not **_my _time. I got better things I can be doing, instead of showing you what a fight is about!"

Understandably, I was taken aback by her scolding. After my episode with Lotte Lieze, I knew I would surely be confronted by Ryuune next if I did not shape up, but alas, the cat-eared young woman's unintended omission had disturbed me to the core. I had no confirmation, though I could have satisfied my suspicions easily, considering how sad and distraught Lotte was, when I parted with her. However, I chose not to do so, maintaining my facade of a perfect gentleman, though I wanted nothing more than to shake the answers out of her.

There was only one Gil Graham I knew of, but...it just could not be possible...this whole absurd scenario-!

"Hey! Are you _**ignoring **_me, Captain Oblivious?" Ryuune angry shout cut in to my train of thought.

I blushed, feeling tiny and guilty before the smoldering brunt of her sky blue eyes. I tried to apologize or at least stutter out some kind of lame excuse, but such was her anger and my awkwardness that I lost the strength in my voice.

"_Bastasi_!" she cursed in frustration, torn seemingly between wanting to kick me or rip out her hair. It appeared I had exhausted her patience, entirely.

"Z-Zoldark, I..."

"_E chu ta_!"

Ouch, I think she hates me.

"You flaming rankweed sucking scumbag! I. Am. Not. An. _Idiot_. You hear me?! I don't know what it is you've been doing, but you're sure as _droyk_ up to something, Chrono Harlaown. Because ever since you tagged up with me, _things_ have been way, way, _way_ too quiet, and I know for a fact I've pissed off some pretty stubborn, snob-nosed pricks. There's no way they're going to give up on me just like that, especially when I haven't even beaten them into the dirt, personally."

I see even the proud Corellian hellcat broods over her own standing in our mutually dire situation.

"You did something, Harlaown, and my gut tells me you're about to do something even bigger. Tonight! Something so bad that..."

"Do you want to come see for yourself?" I interjected suddenly, surprising even myself with my cool, measured tone.

Ryuune spluttered, eyes wide with shock at my proposal, which was also an admission of guilt. Granted, it was another of my half lies for I was leading her to believe that I was, truly, a criminal mastermind of some caliber, when the fact is, I have done nothing of the sort to deter her, well, our mutual enemies. Someone else had a hand in that matter, but on the other hand, I speak only truth that I was indeed "up to something big" this evening.

"I am due this midnight at _The Coliseum_. I would be honored if you would accompany me as my _date_. If it is your desire to see for yourself: the truth?"

Now, why the devil would I say something like that? If I could refuse Lotte, then why could I not refuse Ryuune?

"Wh-Wha...what're you-!?"

The answer was simple.

"You are a victim as much as I am in this staged play, Ryuune Zoldark: actors and actresses in someone's drama, pawns in a game, and fools to be played. That is why I make this offer to you. Now, answer me this: will you come with me?"

Care to guess her reply?

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.9 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. This (LONG) chapter probably should have come out last week, but it was Thanksgiving break folks, and I just had to play Call of Duty 4 (best excuse to play an FPS without getting shot and killed for real) and MASS EFFECT (best Epic Sci-Fi Space Opera RPG in ages)! But, hey, I got off of my tail and here is your episode for your reading pleasure, which I hope has a little something for everyone.

Sorry, no action this episode, but there will definitely be some butt kicking next time for the Coliseum awaits! I don't think there will be much of any hotblood stuff, as it will be more or less a Tom Clancy/Devil May Cry/Real Robot affair, as I will be giving you all your first taste of Mage Combat at the enlisted Commissioned Officer level in the Enforcer-verse. Granted, our fighters will still be just senior cadets; however, they will be "03's", that is specialists in the Infantry Field, so they can do some pretty wicked stuff (sorry, no large-scale annihilating particle beams; too dangerous for the spectators).

Look forward to it!

Now, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 18 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	10. Entry 1 10: Gear Up

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.10:

Gear Up / Move Out

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

"He's late," I muttered with some mild consternation, eyeing the glowing numerals on my PDA, before pocketing it away.

The electronics was a necessary evil in my busy lifestyle: taking twenty-two hours of course credits for a semester is no joke, mind you. My intention is that the extra coursework and summer classes should make up for my off-season enrollment, not to mention get all of my compulsory education requirements out of the way. Then, with all of that out of the way, I plan to level off at sixteen hours or so for the remainder of my education, and focus more on subjects within my field of expertise, leaving room to explore useful or otherwise interesting disciplines.

Wasting an hour and a half in the freezing cold, accompanied by an exponentially irate Ryuune Zoldark, was not my idea of fun. Time was a precious commodity, and I scarce had any room for indulgent recreation, when I needed to be studying, training, or taking care of my basic bodily needs. The fact my blonde-haired compatriot was "complaining" up a storm did not help.

"_**Harlaown**_," she breathed, dangerously, making me want to slap myself for suggesting that she come along in the first place.

"Once more, I apologize, but the situation..." I began to explain for seemingly the umpteenth time.

You see, Ryuune had not taken too kindly to my improvised paraphrase of my intentions: flushing _bright _neon pink, her power of speech robbed from her in a stupefied splutter. I tried to clarify, once I wrestled control of my faculties away from my more impulsive, "manly" mien that seemed to rise up without my consent, especially when I least expect and steal "the show". It was a blessing and a curse, though at the time, I think it more the former, as the Corellian hellcat attacked me wildly. A shrill girlish shriek upon her lips, flinging obscenities and perverse accusations that would make a veteran Mandalorian blush!

How I tried to explain to her that I meant the phrase in a purely platonic fashion, but...well, she did not stop, until she was too delirious to put up a good fight. Battered and scandalized, I was forced to carry her out piggyback style, under extreme duress from curious regulars at the gym, and haul her to the nearest medical clinic for I felt the situation was beyond me, professionally. However, as an afterthought, I left her a note with instructions on "when-where" to meet me should she decide to come along, and some advice to dress "warm".

Come along she did, and here we are loitering in a shady secluded back alley, far from prying eyes, and freezing our _shebs _off in the dead of night, like a pair of credit-a-score thugs. I did not even know such a decrepit quarter existed on the base, but here we were in the dead of night, and not a soul in sight. The buildings were silent hulks, most in need of renovation, with the overwhelming visage of the Tower of Bavel leering over them, akin to a unhappy, chastising governess over her charges.

"I have an exam on Tuesday, ya big _di_'_kut_!"

"...so do I, for we share many of the same classes."

"And you're making me lose sleep over this?"

"Zoldark, we can study together..."

"I swear, this had better not be your dumbass idea of a practical pranky hanky joke, or I'll-!"

"There is still Sunday and Monday..." I know, it is obvious she is not listening to me, but: "try, try again," so they say.

"Sith's blood! Why do we have to take all these compulsory education classes, anyways? Isn't learning magic, how to kill the enemy smarter, and stuff all we really need to know?"

"Well..." I began an explanation that I assumed was right on the tip of my tongue.

Imagine my embarrassment, when I drew a complete blank on the subject, wearing a wide-eyed dumbfounded expression, right before the expectant scowl of Ryuune Zoldark. Her scowl turned into a black, condescending sniff, as she assumed a mocking, arrogant pose befitting a highborn lady: arms akimbo on her hips, chin up, and face turned away for I was beneath her. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact we were both in our camouflage utilities, bundled up in trenchcoat and scarves to stay warm.

Honestly, it was not fair that I was at fault. I never even gave the nature of my education any thought prior to now, and simply, accepted it as a necessity. I was to be a commissioned officer; therefore, I assumed I ought to be more "intelligent" than the average enlisted man for the sake of, well, I think...distinction? Besides, the course work is necessary to earn _magus _certifications. Then you would be granted access to spell protocols (more commonly referred to as just "Spells") compiled in the Bureau's vast illustrious compendium of _magicks_, _The_ _Liber Goetia_, or granted permission to create new spell protocols at your discretion.

Later, your very own spells could be submitted for review, and possibly added to the _Goetia_ as a lasting contribution to all mages; your legacy; your mark on history. After all, the _Goetia _is much more than just a grimoire. It is a record of...

"_Ha _**ha**! Please, my Lord and Lady, allow this lowly puck to attend to thine asking," chortled a familiar lilting voice in his accustomed histrionic tones.

My thoughts, though, would have to wait yet again, thanks to the untimely intervention of the "man of the hour." With the grace of an actor, he stepped out from behind the shadow of a nearby dumpster, his footfalls enviably silent against the pavement. Nagi Dai Artai, pale orchid irises seemingly glittering, and the white pallor of his albino skin aglow; he seemed more spirit than mortal, a glorious, haunting apparition appearing out of nowhere.

"If **magic** can defined as performing an impossible act at a certain period of time by means that could be achieved as well by scientific methods, barring time constraints, capital, and/or urgency, then this definition suits, **perfectly**, the humble majesty of Modern Mid-Childa _Cogito_ _Logica Congoscere_ _Magice_ _Ergo_ _Dominari_ _Systaema_. Loosely translated in plebian vernacular: to think, to know in logic therefore the system of sorcery I rule. Magical Devices, Artificial Intelligences, Virtual Intelligences, the brilliance of mortal minds given substance in technology, immortalized in spell protocols, mana purifiers, mana coefficient boosters, artificial magic circuits, mana condensers...everything!"

Ryuune and even myself gaped in the enormity of the revelation. Everything he had just revealed to us, the hints were already there in our textbooks, but the clever devil had beaten us to the punchline by putting everything together in a poignant package. It was no big secret that Nagi, bathing with glee in the light of glory of the moment, basked in his instant superiority over us; I could see it, and certainly, did my companion.

"Serves only one purpose, for all wizards and witches alike to exploit and control the one resource, the power exclusive to our kind alone: **magic**. It is that tight, regulated system of control that makes the Mid-Childa System great, and vastly, superior to its many cousins, sisters, and predecessors, for it is a system that **all **the people can learn and master. It makes it possible that the lowly proletariat, a genius of hard work can defeat even the great magus, a natural-born genius, seemingly god-like and untouchable."

To clarify from his colorful rhetoric: he means that a C-ranked mage can best a S-ranked mage in battle.

"If you understand the mechanics, the processes of a '_Spell_' better than your enemy, than surely the chance of victory exists, no matter how slim, no matter how difficult, before the overwhelming force of their inexplicable might. That is why you receive this education now for **knowledge is power**. Of course, putting that power _to practice _is a different story. Every individual has his or her own way of fighting, and magic may not always be the answer. Something as simple as a blaster bolt to the head, a well-placed word, a precious thing _misplaced_, a savory bite laced in sweet poison, a silver stiletto between the ribs, and so on: the ends justifies the means. **Victory**."

It was a sobering moment...

"But, of course," he smiled good-naturedly, "all of this talk of mine pales in comparison to **true **_magick_, _**ancient **__magick_: the power to create miracles! In that fantastic realm, all rhyme and reason are kicked to the curb. We are at the mercy of _belief _and **the magic**. Dangerous ground we tread; holy, sanctified, and sacred; forbidden to us lowly, selfish mortals. Understand, you do, yes, my Lord and Lady?"

By the Stars, these thunderstruck bombshells of enlightenment need to stop happening so often. The timing was horrible, especially in the wake everything I have experienced. More questions than answers, as if I was the fool who had opened up some accursed "Pandora's Box", but in this case, there was no tangible beacon of hope to be found. My only choice in the matter was to suck it up, file the intrigues away for later thought, and keep "soldiering" on.

On the other hand, Ryuune Zoldark who had no inklings of such grand burdens, a freer heart, and a quicker temper had more tangible concerns in mind:

"Okay, okay! That lecture was, _yeah_, great and all, but answer me this: who the flaming blazes are you? and what good reason do I got not to beat the crap out of you, huh?"

I sighed, feeling a headache coming on, "Zoldark, he's..."

"Neither enemy nor friend, at least to thee, mi'lady," Nagi courted the obvious danger of provoking the Corellian girl with all the eagerness of a brave fool. "But, to mi'lord, this one be the truest, cleverest, most indispensible puck anywhere around, and never better the friend!"

"..._Rrrrr_, Harlaown, just **who** is this pasty white whacko, huh? 'Cos, I'm about to break his face."

"Ugh, for Mystra's sake, Zoldark, he is my-"

"**The Fool**," the pale prince of the north answered for me.

If I was a "man" of lesser patience, I might have been insulted by his "insufferable" timing. However, having spent nearly every day with Nagi Dai Artai until recently, I had come to understand his taste for the dramatic. I wish, only, that I was not subject to witness the "glorious" work of his "magic of words", under the present circumstances.

Ryuune went rigid. Not because of fear; not because of awe in the name she recognized as Atlas's most favored and thrice-blessed "information broker" (for I imagine he bought and sold, much more than that); her feelings were something else, and plain as day, smoldering in her bright blue eyes.

**Rage**.

"O-kay..._now_, I'm really, really gonna **break **your face. You. Me. We got bad blood to settle, Artai!"

"Hahaha, how just like my expectations of you, my dear, _ku ku ku_."

I sighed, inwardly. I should have known Nagi's shady dealings would, in some way, have an adverse effect on the Corellian girl, though likely an indirect consequence he must have known about long before this confrontation came upon his doorstep.

"Zoldark, if you want to break his face, save it for some other time, please? This scoundrel is my roommate, aide, contact, and sponsor, Nagi Dai Artai. You met him once before, though as of late he has disappeared conveniently from my sight and from our classes. He will be our ticket to get into _The Coliseum_, tonight; thus, if you intend to see this venture through, stay your hand."

"Ah, this one is honored by Heroic Chrono's words!" the little puck was positively basking in glee, liken to a smug cat being showered with affection from his "owner".

Ryuune scoffed, her disgust punctuated by the protesting curl of leather-gloved hands balling into tight fists, "_Fine_. I'll be sure to wipe that sick smile of your pasty white face, when we're third years, **Artai**. You'll get what's coming to ya; mark my words!"

"Peace, peace. We are wasting time. Nagi, are we ready to depart?"

"Ah, pardon the delay, but there is one more piece of business we need to take care of. Just a moment!"

My jaw joined my mutual Corellian colleague in going slack, gaping in shock, as the bombastic, the sardonic, the devilish, the "Great" Nagi Dai Artai went --- **dumpster diving**. Unlatching the lid of the near dumpster he had emerged from behind of just moments ago, the albino boy dove in with great gusto, uttering a hysterical whoop. No words can describe the absurdity, as we watched him, dumbstruck, rummage around in the "horrors" that lay within that green metallic confine, his feet kicking up in the air like a diver.

And finally, we were rewarded with a shrill cry of "_EUREKA_!", his visible boot-clad feet spasmed terribly so.

Ryuune was the first to regain her voice, a touch disappointed, "I'd never thunk it that the big bad, mean, scum licking snob of a bastard was a pack rat."

"I never knew either," I confessed to her, more in wonder than anything, "I seem to learn something new about him every time."

"This puck can hear thine conspiracy, mi'lord and lady!" he called back jovially, startling us.

Naturally, we had the good sense to be embarrassed. Speaking ill of another and being caught by the said target of your mockery does tend to spark that sort of reaction.

"But never mind that: pull me out!"

There was dead silence.

"I'm stuck, and I can't get out!"

He is what?!

"I mean it. Pull me, pull me, pull me out! I'll cry if you don't pull me out. I'll cry! And I'll cry! And cry! And-"

"Alright, alright, alright! We got it. Just shut up, and stop kicking," snapped Ryuune, looking positively beet red and scandalized.

Lending a hand to someone you threatened with bodily harm moments ago is rather ludicrous, but here she was, forced to eat her own menace. I found it humorous, quite.

"Hey, what're _you _spacing out for, Harlaown? You're helpin' too, so get over here and put your back into it!"

Perhaps, I thought too soon?

"Yes, Ma'am."

Despite the simplicity of our task, it took a surprising amount of "heaving and ho-ing" to haul Nagi out of the dumpster. The situation I believe was compounded, mostly, by our lack of leverage, a comical remainder of our still immature bodies. Now, I see something to Ryuune's logic in demanding I help as well, though I imagine she "asked" only because she did not want to do all the lifting and pull by herself, while I reaped the benefits of her selflessness scot-free.

A moment later, we were rewarded by a chortling Nagi Dai Artai, whom was attached to a black duffle bag almost too big for him. Thankfully, he acquired no outrageous odors from the dumpster, and was free, miraculously, of any filth. Come to think of it, even his "prize" was in mint condition and had no stench either, as if it had been placed there only recently.

Did it mean someone had planted the bag here earlier, and if so, for whom to find and why?

"Well, you're one happy sonuvagun, Artai," Ryuune eyed the albino boy, as he snuggled lovingly against the duffle bag, embracing it liken to a long lost pet. Her bright blue eyes tempered with suspicion. "Wha'cha got in there? Lunaweed? Death sticks?"

Nagi laughed her grave accusations off, despite the serious judicial repercussions they held, "Nothing of the sort, mi'lady! The business of narcotics is for little-minded entrepreneurs and thugs. My area of expertise is far **grander **than that tiny stage, and an indispensible service I am, yes I am, to all of my clients."

I watched on without a word, as he set down the duffel and procured what appeared to be a matching set of dull metallic bracers and greaves, a belt, and a crossbody belt of similar make to the waist-worn belt. At a glance, they seemed perfectly ordinary, with no immediately distinguishing features or the like that would give them away as anything else besides common every day items. However, looks can be deceiving...

"Heroic Chrono, I give thee: the M4760A1 Power Belt, a wonderful Weapon Device for novices, veterans, and civilians alike! And do not fret, for this is the same hardware _the wookie_ possesses as well. Though, I believe you would benefit much more so from the A4 model, considering the vast physical divide between yourself and he."

Ryuune's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets, as she stared in a mixture of shock and disgust, between myself and Nagi. I imagine, she never expected me to be part of his clientele, which I was not, officially. Our relationship was closer to that of a performer and a manager, with the boy from the north having taken an interest in me from the beginning whereas I would have preferred to be left in anonymity. ...except I needed him now.

She probably would not believe me, but I ought to try to clear my name of her wild assumptions before she misunderstands any further, "Before you assume anything worse, Zoldark, I am trusting you not to speak of this."

"Idiot," the blonde-haired girl snorted at me, with a derisive sniff, "I'm already guilty by association by being here with you. No way I can report both of you clowns without looking bad myself. Besides, I don't snitch. I _break _heads, got it? Doesn't matter where you run, where you hide; I'll **be **_there_, and I'll make you you'll wish you never came crawling out of your mama."

"Ooo, feisty-feisty!" Nagi giggled at her menacing statement, "that's Miss Cool and Spicy, Ryuune Zoldark, for you, Heroic Chrono."

At that point in time, I think Nagi Dai Artai was the first person in the galaxy who had the "balls" to brush off a threat from Ryuune Zoldark. He was probably the only one who got away with it too, by association with me.

"Watch it, fairy boy. _Just_, watch it, 'cos I don't care how necessary you are to everyone else. **You **don't mean jack to me, and when I'm done with you, hell, let 'em come. We'll see who's the _real_ soldiers around here."

"Please, can you two stop antagonizing each other?" I sighed helplessly, feeling like some out of luck baby sitter, "the night is not over yet, and I still have a lot to do."

"Yes, yes! It as you say, Heroic Chrono. Please, allow this puck to arm thee, mi'lord!"

Ryuune rolled her eyes at Nagi's theatrical groveling, but held her peace otherwise.

She was content to watch as the albino boy rather enthusiastically "helped" to remove my trench coat for me, though it felt closer to an assault on my person. "Arming" myself was fairly straightforward, despite the fact the weapon device was intended originally for an adult user. Thanks to modern magi-tech, advanced metallurgy, and a "one size fits all" design mentality, the bracers and greaves "recalibrated" to fit my child body, literally morphing in shape to provide the best protection, while the belt pieces adjust accordingly so. The entire process was completely automatic, needing only a conscious "thought input" from myself, once the weapon device "registered" me as a compatible user: the requisite being having an active Linker Core and functioning Magical Circuits sufficient to power the device.

With that said, I suppose, I should explain what a Weapon Device is: like its namesake, it is a magical device fashioned as a weapon, simple yet elegant. They come in many shapes and purposes, rifles and staves for example, running the full gamut of power and effectiveness, but are all inherently self-limiting. How so? Unlike Intelligent Devices or Storage Devices, Weapon Devices cannot be installed with new "Spells" nor can they be used to create new spell protocols. Also, Weapon Devices have varying "Mana Requirements"; therefore, there is a limit to how many Weapon Devices a mage can use simultaneously, not to mention who would have access to them.

Ultimately, they are explicit weapons of war, and are designed to use their pre-installed spell protocols (or "Functions") to maximum efficiency. To compensate for this shortcoming, most modern Weapon Devices feature the capability to be tweaked or modified on the fly, providing for a modular weapons system, like most military-issue blaster rifles and the like. In addition, with their specialization as "pure weapons", their processing speed and reliability is even greater than that of their grander cousins. Thus, a less accomplished mage, armed with a variety of Weapon Devices can best a veteran _magi_ armed with the more versatile Intelligent or Storage Device.

"So, how does it feel, Heroic Chrono?" Nagi asked me, as I shrugged back on my trench coat, hurriedly, to escape from the cold. "Your very first Device!"

Due to the M4760A1's unobtrusive nature, we were able to hide the Power Belt beneath my uniform. No one would notice unless they cooked off a specialized "Search"-type spell, or they searched my person for weapons and the like. It was comfortable to wear, surprisingly; the weight negligible even for a child. In practice, the bracers and the greaves served as "Emitters" that projected a personal force field around the user, based on a "Field"-type defensive spell. The crossbody belt serves as the "Regulator", distributing shield coverage accordingly to need, and focusing the energies into the hands and feet for "Power Strikes" that can pierce even the adamant hull of a main battle tank. Last but not least, the heart or brains of the "Power Belt" lies in the belt worn around the user's waist that contains the "Magi-Link Interface" and other necessities.

"Well, I do not feel any more terribly powerful, if that is what you are concerned about," I confessed to my waiting colleagues, "I can sense my link to the Device, a kind of background noise, an electrifying presence that is diverting the flow of _mana_ in my circuits elsewhere."

Ryuune had a thoughtful expression on her face, as she favored me with her scrutiny. I am surprised she has not asked yet, just where The Fool got his hands on military hardware, and how he did it, granted it would have been a futile demand knowing Nagi.

"Seems textbook enough."

"Yes, yes! Can you confirm its capabilities?" the albino inquired further.

"No. I feel just as '_naked_' as I did before."

"Hmm, _that _is a problem..."

"Hey, Harlaown, isn't that _Dubyadee_ supposed to be '_smart_'? Y'know, it only goes to work when you need it to?"

"Yes, but considering where we are going and what I am about to do..."

"And just **what **are you going to-?"

I never got to answer her for I was **interrupted**, not by a cry, but a _scream_ of blaster fire. It went on and on, the overwhelming fusillade hitting me with a force to be reckoned, bowling me over in a haze of flash, smoke, sparks, and flame. I lay motionless, speechless, and shocked for all the world; time slowing to a crawl as the stench of ozone and melted ferrocrete assailed my senses. Questions raced through my panicked mind at speeds beyond light: how? why? who? what? impossible. "This" could not be happening to me, not like this...

"NAGI, YOU SONUVABITCH!" I heard an unholy scream through the din of white noise.

"Easy, easy, mi'lady," tut-tutted another voice, "everything is going just as planned."

"Just as planned...? Just as planned, huh! Well, **frak **you and your SITHSHIT PLAN! I'll get _you_; _I'll get you_; **I'll get you**... I'LL KILL YOU, YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Ah-hahaha, how honest and straightforward of you, _Ryuune Zoldark_, and I would not have it any other way..."

"Don't call me by my name, _chakaar_!"

"...you are perfect for the role of the lead hot-blooded heroine! This Nagi, Fool and Devil, always knew you were the one he needed."

"You'll be knowing my boot so far up your arse your flaming damned great grand_frakker_ will roll over in the incinerator and piss some more _shavit_!"

"I would love to see you try," Nagi chortled, wholly unrepentant and expectant, "in fact, I look forward to it, with great pleasure, but in the meantime... **Chrono**, mi'lord, my hero: do you not think you have played dead long enough? Twenty-two blaster bolts, from a DC-17 repeater hand blaster, in just fewer than twenty seconds is a paltry offering to kill you."

Just like that, as if a switch had been turned on, my will returned to me, and I rose to a sitting position, sluggishly, noting my sharp ragged breaths and the sheen of sweat upon my ashen face. To my left, ducking behind a dumpster to conceal herself was a wide-eyed Ryuune Zoldark, clearly shocked at my nigh miraculous survival, while down the alleyway stood, Nagi Dai Artai, with a proud smile on his face. The smoking barrel of the white pearl-handled repeater hand blaster, meant for an adult, and thus cocked into his shoulder like a blaster rifle, identified itself clearly as the weapon of choice in my almost-murder.

"N-_Nagi_..." I rasped, my jaw tightening little by little into a cautious grimace.

"Ah! I commend thee for thy will to live, Heroic Chrono!" he congratulated me, all smiles, giving his weapon a theatric twirl before blowing off the smoke. The opened duffle bag, the same one from which he had produced the Power Belt, lay at his feet; it was incriminating evidence of where he had taken the blaster from, though it remains to be seen how he smuggled it in, and whom he acquired it from...

"The Device obeys you well, more than enough proof of its competent operation. I saw the blue glimmer of the shields pop up right when you needed them, instinctively! If the Device had been faulty, you would surely be in another world by now: _amen_."

"You... You _shot _**me**."

"All in good faith, Heroic Chrono; all in good faith."

"That's what you call _good faith_?" shouted Ryuune in outrage, though she had the good sense not to stand up and present herself as a target. She had taken her training too deeply to heart to make a small but fatal mistake like that in a rush of righteous fury. "Burning skies and swimming Jawas! I'm liking you less and less by the moment, you _fedding_ scumbag."

"And my love for thee: your fury and your passion strokes the embers of my hearth ever hotter, mi'lady. This, I swear it to be true!"

"You disgusting little-!"

"**Enough**," I boomed with a sudden explosion of pure unadulterated malevolence, "Nagi, put that damned --- _uncivilized _blaster away and take us to _The Coliseum_. Tarry we have for long enough, and neither of you will utter another word until we reach our destination, understood, **children**?"

Suffice to say, the "children" froze, realizing that they had made the boy in blue scary blooming mad in the brain. Nobody (at least the sane ones) wanted to argue with a "man", who had just missed his date with death. Having the superior firepower at the time helped too, as I was liable to **and **could rip them both apart, from limb to limb. Those two argued and fought like a regular pair of former paramours for Mystra's sake. If they did not like each other so much, then they ought to get married, shotgun-style, right now, and I would be happy to make sure it happened!

* * *

Nagi lead the way, and nobody said a word. Down and down he lead us into the dim, wretched labyrinth of the sewers that rain beneath the "school", but I did not pay any particular attention to our route, of which I was only a passenger following in his wake. I was too busy brooding over the cold, dumb fact that if it were not for the six pieces of magi-technology on me right now, I would have been a dead man. Everything I learned, everything I possessed, **lost **in an instant because of some opportunistic, lucky idiot who did not even have the decency to fight me face to face where I could kill him or her in the most professional, indiscriminate manner possible.

The nerve, the audacity, the absurdity; my training, of course, had covered this very real possibility, the most likely threat I would ever face on the battlefield: some man, woman, or worse, child with a "gun". Indeed, they would shoot at me, and try their damned best to kill me, despite the odds against them. The combat instructors had all tried to prepare us mentally for when it happened, but to experience a still distant nightmare given flesh blood in reality, having live "rounds" slam into me...

How frail and weak I am, truly...

Stronger.

Stronger.

And stronger.

I must get stronger. That is the only answer, and this truth I repeated like a mantra, burning it into my heart. I must be able to protect myself before I can protect others, strong enough that I can lead them into battle without fear; a truth, I had been taught for what seemed like a lifetime ago. Never again would I allow myself to succumb to such gross weakness. It was unsightly, pathetic, and inexcusable in a commander: one entrusted with the sacred duty to lead.

Stronger!

* * *

It was the cool blast of wind that snapped me free from my dark ruminations. Suddenly, I was aware of just how colder the air had gotten, stand here on this "bridge": we were somewhere, somewhere up on high, incredibly high, above the clouds, staring down at the wondrous majesty of the world, bathed in the light of the distant sun, setting painting everything in hues of yellows, reds, and brown. Impossibly so, the air was breathable despite our obvious high altitude; the ancient bridge of stone, lined with imposing gothic gargoyles, and tall windmills.

Towering over us, none too far away, was a massive, majestic free-standing structure: the facade of its outer wall comprised of three stories of arcades surmounted by a podium on which stands a tall attic, both of which are pierced by windows interspersed regularly. Each of the arcades were framed by intricate vaulted half-columns, while the attic was embellished with pilasters. Furthermore, each of the arches in the second and third floor arcades framed elaborate statues, some human-like and others all too alien, likely honoring divinities or figures from an unknown culture.

There was no doubt this structure was keeping the very bridge we stood upon, which in all likelihood was a dock, afloat. The feat of levitation was achieved by the concentration of colossal _aero_ and storm magicite, generating a crackling magical electromagnetic storm cloud of awe-inspiring proportions. Some would call this floating structure a sky fortress, but considering the visible lack of weaponry, and the myriad of banners proudly on display from its tops, the structure was intended for a different purpose. Indeed, by the audible festive cheers and uproarious music we could here emanating forth, an amphitheatre was a much more fitting description.

"I'll...I'll be Kesseled! Where in the _droyk _are we?" Ryuune was the first to speak up, entirely mystified by our circumstances. "Last thing I remember was us trudgin' through the flaming _mopak_ of a sewer, and vape, here we are!"

Nagi laughed, pleased by the Corellian girl's wonder, "Excellent, excellent! It heartens me to see young hearts fall for the magnificence left behind by our ancestors. _This_ is the Stage of Sky, an Innate Bounded Field, right inside the Tower of Bavel itself!"

We were inside the Tower?

"But bear in mind, this is not the true interior of the Tower either."

So this is an illusion?

"But! The world you see here is, indeed, very real and material. If we wished, we could even try to explore the world down below, though I would advise against as none have ever returned from the surface. More importantly, we should fix our sights on the true prize: Chrono! Ryuune! I give thee..."

He gestured theatrically towards none other...

"_The Coliseum_, where Our Destiny awaits!"

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.10 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. Sorry, no action this episode (despite the hype for which I apologize), as I ended up doing quite a lot of exposition, but I assure you all it's quite worthwhile "World" information to flesh the universe out and make it more "real". There is also some decent character development and foreshadowing on the side. Again, I am sorry about the hype, and then making you all read this kind of chapter instead, but you gotta know what you are getting into, before you go out and fight. Knowing and understanding the technology you use to fight, and the reasons for your education is already half the battle won. The rest is guts and putting that knowledge to practice, at least that's how it works with the Modern Mid-Childa magic system, very scientific and logical.

_Other_ Magic Systems, on the other hand, will **not** be the same, with the exception of "Modern" Belkan (as we already know they are a lame copy of Modern Mid-Childa that "cheats" using "Magic Cartridges" to accelerate spell casting or spell power through "brute force"). If any of y'all have some interesting systems in mind you wanna see in action at some point, give me a holler and we'll see if we can work something out (I am looking at you, Person with many aliases).

I know I am looking forward to _Daemonic_ Devices. Man, those are going to be a lot of fun, when we finally get around to 'em.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He's got chappie 19 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM (it is: jamesedwards0079), or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	11. Entry 1 11: Royal Rumble

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.11:

The Royal Rumble

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

The veil of evening descended with the setting sun, and the stars came out in full force. It would be a misunderstand to say that I was not excited by the prospect of the glorious visage of _The Coliseum_ drawing nearer with every step I took. In fact, I wanted to go running ahead of everyone else to take in the sights and the sounds, for I had never gone to an event so honestly, well, festive. My time at _The Coliseum_ that night was also the first time I had ever been to anything resembling a professional level "sporting event" (I admit I am quite fond of pod racing on Tatooine: barbarism, cheating, and all).

You can imagine my disappointment upon encountering "Event Security" for the first time...

"Halt! Who goes there?" roared a grossly amplified brazen voice, bordering on foppish, out from the arched entrance way.

Naturally, we all stopped just a few scant strides away: myself and Ryuune bewildered, and trying to ascertain where the voice had come from before us. Alas, due to the unique architecture of the stadium our efforts were wholly futile, as the "guard's" voice reverberated along the passageways and in-and-out of the barred entrances, the lined the exterior of the structure. He was close by for certain, his voice audible over the music and the cheers within, and must have had a line of sight to see us coming, but where could he be waiting for us?

Nagi was the only one unaffected by the order, his duffle bag slung across his shoulders, without a care in the world. His expression was that of someone who knew that some snob (lesser than himself) was about to get his just desserts, and he could not wait to laugh, "Oh, we know who we are, but do _you _know who we are, my Hapan friend?"

"What?! Who...? _No_. That voice! Could it be?"

"Come on out, _Io Bebe_!" drawled Nagi with a devilish sneer.

We were rewarded an instant later by a girlish shriek, accompanied by a terrifying piggish squeal that frankly made the hairs on my neck stand on end. The space before us became distorted and twisted, a visible spatial phenomenon of energy and color, as if it were quarreling with itself. Then, suddenly the "veil" dropped and a truly effeminate scream graced our ears, as a criminally beautiful, well, **boy **thudded unceremoniously on the pavement at our feet.

Long blonde hair, glittering blue eyes, and decked in a white leotard, a tutu with a ridiculous swan head creeping out from underneath the skirt like some mocking phallic symbol, and matching ballerina shoes: I would have sworn the "He" was a female, if it were not for my good memory. I recalled the incident of the night where I involved myself with Ryuune Zoldark, and here I am face to face with the many of her problems for the first time. ...no wonder that poor Chiss fellow blushed; what a "beautiful" Hapan.

"'Urr 'urr 'urr! Youse alwayz good fer a laugh, ya uselezz Pretty!" snorted a guttural voice in a most peculiar accent, the owner of which soon stepped into the light himself.

Io sobbed hysterically like some suffering, overacted heroine in a "bad" HoloNet soap opera, "Y-You! _You _brute! You didn't have to kick me. You could've broken something important!"

I do not know whether it would be an insult (or a complement) to call him a brute: it was the first time in my life I ever met a Gamorrean. I did not even know Mystra even blessed their race with the gift of magic as well!

"'Urr 'urr 'urr! Piglet thankz youse kindly, _Pretty_. Bestest word youse can say ta da stompiest, _Dakka_-iest, smartest Bart da eva' live! W'o da baus? I iz da Baus! A regulaz Gentlebein', yea'?"

Piglet (I assume that was his name) was a model example of his people. Tall, a touch squat, and a very stocky muscular build; his blue utilities was bursting at the seams trying to contain his impressive bulk. He looked as if he could haul an entire regiment's worth of field rations by himself, and would be proud to do so. Naturally, he possessed the distinctive dark green skin shared by many Gamorrean males. His snout was thick and proud, golden yellow irises peered out from a close set of eyes beneath a heavy hairless brow, and a pair of horns grew out from his scalp, joining the proud tusks jutting forth out of his mouth.

I could not gauge how old he was as he had already reached his adult height, though considering he did not possess a rather healthy paunch, like most older males did, he must have been fairly young. Nevertheless, Piglet towered over us, and I could not help but feel my age.

"He talks! Burning balls of gas and rocket fuel! He talks!" Ryuune gaped, clearly more surprised by the talking Gamorrean than the sudden appearance of her hated foe.

"Itz a magick-sumfink spell, da gift from Piglet'z Big Masta! Dat'z why I don't need no stinkin' tranzlator ta talk right like a normal 'Umie."

"Ah, Piglet, dependable Piglet! so good to see you."

"Wot da zog!" Piglet exclaimed in surprising, noticing the pale boy's presence, "Itz da Little Masta Nagi! Wot're youse doin' 'ere? Come ta check up on, Pretty? O', O'! I knowz. I knowz! Youse 'ere fer da _Royal Rumble_? Da betz fer da first round 're closed already, but Piglet can pass _Da Word _fer ya; dat Piglet can!"

Nagi waved off the eager fellow, though he was evidently enjoying the Gamorrean's fawning attentions to please him.

"Not today, my good Piglet. My friends and I are here on _business_. I trust, my private box seats are available as usual?"

"O', O'! Yes, yes! Piglet gotz it! Masta Nagi, right diz way! Piglet will take youse d'ere personally, a great honor, yea'!"

I never knew how important individual Nagi Dai Artai was in the underworld of Atlas until now, and for him to receive this manner of preferential treatment, bordering worship, was irrefutable proof of his prestige and accomplishments. He was no ordinary "information broker". The term "Godfather" seemed much more appropriate for one such as he.

Of course, I wished for us to be on our way, but now that her initial shock was over, Ryuune was suddenly aware of Io Bebe's presence.

"**Wait**... What's _this _flaming mixed-up fruit frakker doing here?"

Fortunately, the beautiful Hapan was too caught up in his private misery to care that one of the person's he had wronged on previous occasions was well within arm's reach of him. That is to say, he was in the kill radius for opened can of "Deluxe Pain and Suffering Vanilla Fire", which I assure you hurts quite a bit, even with padded protective gear.

"Hnn?" Nagi glanced over his shoulder to see the Corellian girl pointing a quivering middle finger to the "ballerina." He considered the scene for a moment, as if he were seeing something mysterious and bizarre, a most thoughtful knitting of his brow. "Oh...oh! _Him_! ...I forgot about him."

"What!? How the hell do you forget a snobby prissy little _chubba _like him? You just talked to him a second ago!"

Piglet snorted in a derision, "'Ey, 'ey, 'ey! Little Masta Nagi iz a-very, very impor-tant Baus! He got no time fer little grotz like dat. Pretty, made da mis-take of messin' wit' da wrong Baus! 'Urr, 'Urr, 'Urr!"

I assume the "'urr's" was the Gamorrean's way of laughing or chuckling.

"Do not concern yourself with a bottom feeder like Io, mi'lady. I assure you the fop has been punished _quite _severely for trespassing on grounds he had no business in. Though if it pleases you, feel free to give him a good thump."

"What do you _mean_ he's been punished?"

"Well, well, _fu fu fu_, it pays to have friends and contacts in places low and high. My clientele did not appreciate such a scandalous, embarrassing, and flippant **queen **running around spreading his _osik_ everywhere like he, _ahem_, owned the school. So, they contacted me...I pulled a few strings...hush-hush work, yes?...passed _Da Word_...and here we have the result."

Ryuune blinked, her expression stricken as if she had been struck.

Nagi smiled, "The Fools is the best there is. Now, shall we go? The first match should be about ready to start, if my ears do not deceive me."

The tempo of the music and the cheers from the crowd was becoming more rambunctious and upbeat, evidence that something was about to begin. We all shared a meaningful look, though the Corellian girl wore more of a scowl, and of we went, much to the joy of Piglet, who was quite pleased to do his self-appointed job. He hummed a jaunty tune, something along the lines of "'Ere we go! 'ere we go! Off we go! 'ere we come!" that could actually work for a marching ditty.

Off we were, but not without a price, as I glanced over to see Ryuune pull down her cover in an effort to hide the grotesque snarl splitting across her face:

"...that bastard...he'll pay for this...I'll make him pay for stealing...my revenge."

Oh dear...

* * *

_The Coliseum_ was originally meant to seat roughly fifty-thousand spectators, according to Piglet, but due to circumstances, the underground organizers had reconfigured the structure over the years to cater to a little over two-thousand. The excess space was afforded to four gigantic projection screens in the stands, so that the crowds could watch the action from angles they could not observe from their seats. Also, more space had been added to the arena floor, allowing for more combatants to participate at once, and more elaborate pre-fabricated combat zones.

Keeping with tradition and the stadium's architectural philosophy, seating was afforded at premium prices and/or influence: VIPs sat right in the front row in private box seats, which would be attended to regularly by complimentary staff. The tiers behind them were set aside for everyone else in no particular order, though typically, the ones who sat closer to the front had more credits or influence to spare than the fellows in the back. It was a "laughable", yet real example of class warfare at work, and tonight the stands were packed to the brim.

"Enjoy da show, Little Masta!" hollered the Gamorrean as he left, "Piglet'll go pass Da Word ta sum-gretchin' ta get ya food an' drink."

The hatch closed shut, drowning out much of the noise from the outside, and effectively creating a private cinema for us in the booth. The interior was tastefully decorated: the walls being padded with leather upholstery, and lounge-style seats were arrayed in a neat row facing the panoramic viewing window (from which we commanded an amazing vantage) at our disposal, each fitted with a small flipping table. A quintet of speakers, arranged to provide surround sound, hummed a soothing classical opera number, while heating and cooling came through a central duct in the ceiling next to the lights; compared to the other students outside at the mercy of wooden benches and the weather, we were decidedly well off.

"Are the accommodations to your liking, mi'lord and mi'lady?" Nagi asked us, graciously. "Please, by all means! Make yourselves at home. I would change the ambience, but as the match is about to start..."

Suddenly, a squawk of noise came over the speakers, cutting him off prematurely, as it belted out an electronic synth mixed with drums, a melody of some manner that perked my ears. Outside, we could see the crowd rouse itself up in a synchronized frenzy, standing up and down together, like a wave, as the illumination stadium lights dimmed. A phantasmagoria of pyrotechnics and holographic shapes lit up in the air, the programming on the gigantic projection screens cycling to display a countdown timer, as the arena floor shuddered, appearing to crack and splinter from streams of pure white light forcing its way out.

The cheers and the music grew louder and louder, peaking at an astounding climax. In a flash, all was revealed: gone the sandy flat plane of the arena floor, and its place was a sunken pit, roughly three stories deep, populated by austere, sand-blasted and rounded off structures and streets. It was as if someone had taken a snapshot of an urban desert city, for example the infamous Mos Eisley from Tatooine, and recreated one of its section right here in an area a little larger than a gridiron football field. The "battlefield" was asymmetrical, and perhaps a little confusing, as there was no real reason as to how the buildings and streets were arranged, making the twin "temples" at opposing ends of the "town" the only viable points of reference.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" hailed a bombastic masculine announcer over the stadium sound system, "It's the moment you've been paid good credits for, the first blooding of the night to kick off our _Royal Rumble_!"

They were the tallest structures at five stories in height, colored red and blue, and commanded an impressive view over the smoothed rooftops, which incidentally were also where the "fighters" stood.

"In the red base, standing gracefully tall in scarlet, her three sizes are CLASSIFIED, and a woman never tattle-tales her best secrets: the _femme fatale_, Rank Twenty-Seven - Audrey Vion and Coiler II!"

True to form, she wore the color of scarlet, and quite saucily too, standing with her hip cocked, as she leaned against her shear black coiled "quarterstaff" with a white "control orb" just above its handle. Obviously, she was an older student too, as she had her own Barrier Jacket. The base body was the standard Bureau design that consisted of utility-style trousers, a cassock-like greatcoat with spike-like mana compressors on the shoulders, and armored gloves The additions she added were a set of "hard" armor components, stylized and faintly feminine with sloping angles, that covered her torso and legs, and a full helmet bearing a cruel X-faced visor. The look gave her the impression of a "holy knight" from the days of yore.

Notably, her cuirass also displayed visible heat sinks and cooling vents, while her greaves sported an array of thruster ports, and more curiously, a pair of wing-like independent "satellites" units that hovered in place behind her. One bristled with "spikes" that appeared an overgrown compressor while its sister was wrought with glowing cylinders dotting its hull and a large exhaust. I imagine, the latter was likely a mana capacitor, a "battery" if you will to store up mana, as your own Magical Circuits can only use a fraction of the mana available in the environment, capped by the number of circuits you possess. Incidentally, the amount of mana you can store is limited by the number of circuits as well: hence, the need for mana capacitors, depending upon what you are trying to achieve.

"In the blue base, the would-be champ in silver, immovable as a mountain, and his love for you is like a full metal jacket sabot to your heart: the heartstopper, Rank Twenty-Two - Gabe Glow and Bruiser Knight!"

He, too, was an upperclassman, favoring the same knightly appearance as his colleague, though he seemed to be a little short of a being a walking human fortress. He wore heavy Gothic-style "plate armor" from head to toe, a Barrier Jacket that clearly emphasized defense over mobility, with sloping planes and fluted curves designed to deflect projectiles and disguise exhaust ports and vents. Mana compressor spikes adorned the shoulder pauldrons and the backs of armored calves. His great helm bore decorative wings on the side to soften the harsh contrast of the cross-shaped visor and its menacing glowing "eye" at its center that tracked along its visible planes of view.

Much like the knights, Gabe armed himself with a shield and "lance": the former sporting added armor plating, and heat sinks. The latter was a greatly exaggerated quarterstaff fitted with a series of emitters along its killing length, and thruster ports at its butt, while the yellow-hued control orb was nestled just behind the handle.

"That's funny," Ryuune mumbled aloud, catching my attention, "how come that guy's Device isn't just a lance, plain and simple? It's obvious he means it to be one, so why make a staff into a wannabe lance?"

Come to think of it... That is a good question.

Nagi, naturally, was happy to explain for both of us, "'Tis a matter of tradition, mi'lady! The staff is a symbol of a wizard or witch's authority and power for in ancient times, they were the keepers of the peace and the arbitrators of justice. Of course, this is not without scientific basis as modern studies indicate the staff or any other construct in line with its design is an inherently superior conductor of magic."

And how the devil did he know that?

"Romantics also note that the staff, unlike the sword or the gun, is not a weapon, a tool for murder; it is only through our expressed desires does it kill. The staff is a companion, it is a symbol of your office, and it without a doubt is an artifact that has performed many wonders throughout the ebb and flow of time."

"O-kay, but that still doesn't answer my question, Professor Doofus."

"Ah, patience, my dearest. Patience!" grinned the pale prince, reveling in the seething glare the Corellian girl shot him. Honestly, I wonder if he is the type that likes to play with fire? "And here it comes: do you know of _The Belkan War_? It is a very old, **ancient** war from generations ago, so long ago that it should hardly matter, yet it is inexplicably one of the most pivotal eras for all magickind. Be grateful to our ancestors for their hard fought victory, or otherwise we would be speaking _Belkan_, thinking in _Belkan_, and learning _Belkan _**magick **instead."

Ryuune's hard glare spluttered into an exasperated stare, "Do I look like I'd care? What's the difference, anyway? And what does this have to do with the staff taboo?"

"Swords, axes, spears, hammers, and all manner of weaponry did the forms of the debased Belkan Devices take. It was quite the bloody culture shock for the Mid-Childans, whom had used wands, tomes, and staves for generations until the Belkan _crusaders _showed up, intent on conquering our lands for the taking. And who triumphed in the end? Amazingly, The Mid-Childans did, and ever since then, it has become custom that all true Devices, presently Storage Devices and Intelligent Devices, will not assume the blasphemous forms of _murderous _weapons by default."

So that's the story...and where did he learn that from? I am certain we have not even covered such a topic in my classes yet.

"Ironically, it is also from this same climatic conflict that the ancestors of modern Weapon Devices were born, inspired by the Belkan crusaders who had come to conquer this world, and they too left their mark on history. Of course, with the passage of time, enforcement of such traditions have --- relaxed. Nowadays, it is simply in bad taste to design a true Device in any other form, when the staff-styled construct is the most effective-"

_KRAK_-**THOOM**!

Apparently, the fight had kicked off with a flashy **bang**, more than loud enough to send us rolling out of our seats for cover, and cut Nagi's lecture short. It was an instinctive reflex, you see. Even without the speakers, we could hear the crackle of secondary explosions and the shatter of debris. It was eerily quiet, as if not a soul were lift alive, not even the music was playing anymore.

Then, all of a sudden, the screams went up in a hysteria of cheering, and the "techno" music came roaring back with a vengeance.

"Astral! The _Tesla Cracker_!" laughed the announcer over the PA. "Thank technosorcery for the _paling_ or you poor sods on the east end would be toasty _shavit_. _Woooo_! Now, that's _how _you start a fight!"

Apparently, what he meant by the "paling" was the transparent, yet visibly undulating dome of "force" that had erected around the perimeter of the arena floor, mercifully separating us from the action. The barrier itself appeared to be selectively permeable, as the dark smoke in the vicinity of where the "blue base" used to be filtered out freely upwards, but as to its exact origin I did not know. In fact, I did not know such an advanced defensive force field-type spell existed until now.

Audrey Vion had not moved from her vantage at all, well, except to level her still crackling coiled quarterstaff at her foe's direction some moments ago. Wisps of vapor were visibly streaming out of the radiator vents, which appeared to be quite-hot judging by their red-hot exterior, while her satellite units were working in high gear. The supply unit's capacitors were all red, as a flood of glowing "excess" particles rapidly exited out the back in a steady stream, giving the impression of a wing unfurled. On the opposite end, the power unit was buzzing with a pitched hiss, as a nimbus of faintly glimmering particles, different from the excess being funneled out, were vacuumed in post-haste.

She did not have long to tarry: an electric pitched whine pierced the din, as a trio of golden bolts the size of a 120mm shell burst through the smoke and flame. In almost a blur of motion, she leapt aside, seemingly detecting the attack just moments prior, as the familiar Mid-Childa magic circle lit ablaze at her feet for an instant. White wings of focused magical energy phased into existence, sprouting out from her legs, and a with a swift flap, propelling her out of harm's way.

Behind her, the stage of the temple exploded ablaze with a trio of fireballs, while Audrey escaped into the streets, her winged legs allowing her to hover and jet along, much like a conventional repulsor lift craft. However, her troubles were just beginning.

"Uh-oh! Miss Vion better watch out; Gabe-a-Glow is fishing for her!" joked the "ring side" announcer, as the video on the big screens divided, revealing a new object of interest.

It was the Bruiser Knight's "lance", floating along impossibly so in mid-air, using occasional jets of "flame" from the thrusters in its pommel to maneuver for a better angle. I had never seen anything like it; I did not even know such a thing was possible; how had he figured out to make his Device remotely operable? How intriguing; the tactical applications for such a function was nearly limitless.

As for Audrey, she was in for a nasty surprise. Making a beeline towards Gabe's last known position, using the buildings for cover as much as possible to break his possible line of sight, she seemed to be intent on making contact with him. Why she would want to engage in close-quarters fighting with him, I would not know, though likely it was only because she wanted to be sure she "got him" good.

The lance crackled for an instant before barking madly, hurling golden bolts in rapid succession. They were smaller than the "cannon shells" from earlier, but they were no less deadly as they exploded on contact, with a blast radius of at least a meter. An ordinary being would have been reduced to gory chunks and detritus, but the scarlet mage was much more fortunate. Though late, her apparent threat warning "system" alerted her to the attack, causing her swivel about as she continued to glide along, and raised a "textbook" Round Shield to defend herself.

Flying shrapnel, flame, flash, and smoke pilfered the street. There was not much room to dodge at all, direct hits against the magical shield sending Audrey almost flying, but she maintained her balance admirably, as her eyes no doubt roved for a quicker exit or an opportunity to return fire. An intersection was coming up fast behind her, and she probably could shake off the "lance drone"...

Suddenly, just as she reached the mouth, there was a thunderclap. Impossible, but we could not deny the reality ringing in her tortured ears, as displaced air exploded outwards in a blast before rushing in to fill the vacuum; the shockwave floored the scarlet mage on the spot, giving her an undignified face full of sand and dust. As for us, we caught a gleam of silver descending on her, through the haze, and it was ill-omen indeed.

Audrey never knew what hit her. She was just stirring up to her knees, shaking out the "kinks" if you will, when a set of silver "mandibles" close around her throat and wrenched her into the air. Panicked, she dropped her "teslastaff", a big mistake, as her satellites hovered helplessly, powerless to help her. The Bruiser Knight flailed her about, smashing her into the sand and the side buildings, which left visible splintering impact craters from the punishing force; his Barrier Jacket boasting some manner of strength enhancement, I assumed.

_Fwh_-**WHACK**!

Gabe shattered a wall, his opponent's struggle growing noticeably weaker, hanging all but limp on the "mandible's" of his shield, as clumps of brick and clay crumpled into a pile. The glowing monoeye on his visor considered her balefully for a moment, before a small magic circle enveloped his free hand, depositing for the lack of a better term a "magic grenade". It was a sphere of condensed magical energies that swirled within its "shell", and an unspoken command from him sent it pulsating, an indicator that it was armed and ready to detonate.

The crowd went wild at the brutality, goading him to "Stick her! stick her! stick her!" for they had anticipated his intentions already.

"Hey, isn't that going to kill her?" Ryuune asked aloud, a touch concerned by what was about to happen.

Nagi laughed, "That is possible, but not a certainty, I assure you. After all, they are both fighting with Limiters. In fact, I am amazed they have been able to accomplish so much, considering how inefficient magic transfer and the like becomes with Limiters in effect. Of course, the Archmagus's wizardry does not affect Weapon Devices as much, thanks to their inherent simplicity, but complex constructs such as those two Storage Devices take a rather unforgiveable performance hit. Their stamina is to be applauded!"

But much like combat, even events here in this coliseum are not set in stone. The X-visor blazed blood red, and in an explosion of vitality, Audrey leveraged herself up on Gabe Glow's outstretched shield arm and struck him with a violent whipping kick to his face. The surprise attack shook him, a mental reflex I imagine causing his shield's "mandibles" to let go of her, as he staggered back wildly, despite the formidable protection of his Barrier Jacket.

Her righteous rage combined with her heightened state easily allowed for the scarlet mage to exploit the opening presented before her. She lunged in, wrenching his armored hand that still clutched onto the pulsating magic sphere, and shoved it forcefully back into its owner's torso. The result was obvious as a white flash fixed itself between the two an instant before a fiery explosion engulfed them both, flinging them apart.

"Oh, I bet that oughta hurt, Ladies and Gents! Don't try that number at home!"

The first to emerge in the wake of the firestorm was the scarlet mage, up-ending unceremoniously head over heels in the opposite direction with her rear in the air. A laughable position to be sure, but with her heightened state, she displayed no sign of pain and rose to her feet. Miraculously, her satellites had survived the blast unharmed, some form of innate programming telling them to stay well out of harm's way. The same could not be said for her Barrier Jacket: singed and sooty, much of the soft weave had been charred black and some portions were still burning, and the cracked hard armor was not much better, having taken the brunt of the damage to shield her vitals.

It was amazing she was even standing!

A sudden gust dispersed the black smoke, revealing a rather riled up Bruiser Knight, judging by the brilliant smoldering monoeye on his cross-shaped visor. His full armored Barrier Jacket was molten red, most of the blast being directed at his person, with numerous cracks on the cuirass, a sign that it had been on the verge of being penetrated. How he had dispersed the smoke was obvious by the blazing golden energy blades that fanned out from the emitters along his "lancestaff", transforming it into a "powered" greatsword.

"So much for the spear-thingy," I heard Ryuune mumble, dryly.

The two mages took maybe a hairbreadth to gauge each other, before Audrey charged in, intent on recovering her teslastaff a ways down the street behind her foe. Her pitched battle cry was amplified to unholy volume by her Barrier Jacket; her voice, a still immature soprano, hinting at her youth, was audible to us for the first time. The banshee-like scream clearly stunned Gabe, catching him off guard, for he staggered back in agony that broke his battle stance. It was exactly the opening the scarlet mage needed, darting past him, before he could wave his huge weapon about in wild defensive paths, cleaving the air with ominous ionizing hums.

With him out of the way, Audrey reached out for her discarded teslastaff, laying in the sand packed street, as if calling for it, and it crackled, levitating itself off the ground, before returning itself to her side. It was an impressive feat, though if it was possible to operate the weapon(s) of a Device remotely, why not summon them back at will too? Suffice to say, she took the weapon in stride, immune to the violent field of electricity encasing it, twirling her teslastaff overhead to build momentum, with practiced ease, as she spun about to bring it screaming upon the silver-clad mage.

Fortunately for the Bruiser Knight, the girl had misjudged her footing on the sand packed street, stumbling a touch on her forefoot, which altered the course of her blow just enough to miss his head. In a flash, the thunderclap of electricity exploded across his shoulder and throughout his armored body, the volts causing involuntary jerks and spasms that sent him ambling forwards. An ordinary being would have been "cooked" or rendered "sufficiently" incapacitated for certain, but like his opponent, Gabe had a solution for "the weak body" too.

Tolerances breached, the monoeye on the cross-shaped visor blazed bright gold, and with unnerving vitality and celerity, he stepped and pivoted about, dragging the powered greatsword in a broad arc. The weapon cut straight through the side of a home like a hot knife through butter, an unstoppable glowing blade of gold that soon bisected Audrey's teslastaff in twain, as she leapt back. Glittering shards of glass fell to the ground from sand kicked up into the air by the sword's tremendous wake and soon transformed by its intense heat.

I had a strong suspicion at this point that both fighters were "hyped up" on combat stimulants. The dire situations they had just weaseled their way out of would have required a much more explosive, electrifying, or superhuman solution, to my limited imagination at the time. I strongly doubt the two had the iron will or the extreme conditioning that would fall into the latter category, so the drugs were the only answer.

Thanks to them though, Gabe Glow's victory was assured. Shocked by the loss of her weapon, Audrey almost did not notice the thrown powered greatsword hurtling through the air to take her head off. Of course, she dropped like a rock, avoiding a rather unpleasant death, only to have a silver boot "greet" her face, slamming into her visor with a wicked crunch. A chorus of "Ooohs" instantly erupted from the hollering of the spectators, as she was lifted into the air by the force of the kick, head over heels.

Her torment, however, had just begun. The Bruiser Knight lived up to his name, and snatched her out of the air by the midriff with his shield's "mandibles" strangling the wind out of her guts, as they bit straight through the armor. She convulsed visibly in a sudden shock of pain, but had little time to consider, for a silver armored fist, engulfed within a humming golden force field of mana, slammed into her cracked helmet, the vicious impact whipping her head back. Not once, not twice...

**KRAK**! **KRAK**! **KRAK**!

Again and again, he pummeled her, and the crowd went wild at the untempered violence.

"_Tsk_, _tsk_, such a shame to lose to such a brute," Nagi commiserated with an empathetic wince, "She should have disengaged and fought him at a distance, before the battle degenerated into a brawl. _Tsk_, _tsk_!"

Finally, the helmet could take no more punishment and it shattered like glass to a roaring approval. The girl beneath was unmasked: short brown hair in a boyish cut, matted with slick crimson, her nose broken and bleeding, and the skin swollen and bruised from her brown to her jaw, splotched yellow and purple. She coughed, a spray of blood, spitting out a stray tooth in the mix of spittle and mucus; her eyes fluttering nonsensically. Audrey Vion had been beaten senseless into submission.

Lo, did the paling drop, signifying the end of the "fight".

"K-O! K-O! It is over, Ladies and Gents! The Fight is over!" cried the announcer, as the sound of a bell being rung repeatedly permeated over the noise of a victory fanfare. "The Bruiser Knight lives up to his name! The odds Seven-to-Three, with Fifteen-Thousand Credits in the money pot! Some folks are going home happy tonight! Can I get a howl for Gabe Glow?"

And sure enough, "paramedics" (at least I assume they were, dressed in white with red caduceus on their caps) appeared on the arena floor as the "battle stage" evaporated away into particles of mana, showering up like snow. Gone was all trace of the conflict that had transpired here moments ago, reinforcing the mentality that this spectacle was all for the sake of --- entertainment, "good clean fun", and nobody gets hurt, "too badly".

"They call that a fight? Frak, that was a **brawl**, not a fight," Ryuune scoffed with displeasure. "If this is how mages get ugly, then I'm sorry, we really ain't all that we're cocked up to be. I expected a little more magic, a little more brains than that... And what did we get? Some _kra-tahk_!, lots more _fzt_-_chiu_!, and then a beat down, straight up, until the other laserbrained _glitbiter_'s Barrier Jacket went down."

I gave her skeptical look, which she did not notice thankfully, as she continued on her triade, much to Nagi's amusement. In a manner, I had expected the fight to turn out exactly as it did: in one on one confrontations, particularly between mages of Officer-level, it boils down to a "duel". Any real tactical maneuvers and such become impossible, as both opponents will operate on the most basic primal fighting instinct when face to face, that is, to neutralize the threat by any means necessary or disengage as soon as possible. Factor in the copious amounts of protection afforded by a thoughtfully designed Barrier Jacket, and you are in for a long haul "slugfest" until the other shoe drops.

Hence, my earlier description of Gabe Glow as a walking human battle tank is not far off the mark at all, when it concerns Modern Mid-Childa mages at least. It takes a lot to bring one of us down, even the noncommissioned enlisted men and women with their standardized Devices. Though from what I learned, there are primarily three things to consider when engineering one's Barrier Jacket: Power, Defense, and Mobility. These are the fundamental traits, which are understandably capped by your input / output of mana from your Magic Circuits.

Of course, there are ways to get around that theoretical limit, as I would come to learn, eventually...

"Nagi," I spoke for the first time, since we had arrived. He immediately perked up at my behest, though my attention was on the arena floor where Audrey Vion was being hauled away on a stretcher. I could not help but memorize the scene, for it was soon flashed away leaving an empty arena, and the festivities continued on without pause. My thought, you see, that could be me in a few months time, if not worse...

"How can this Nagi serve thee, mi'lord?"

"When is SEES supposed to arrive?"

He smiled at me.

"Hm? Oh..._them_."

Suddenly, there was a terrible quake, as if the entire coliseum had just shook. The stadium floodlights flickered and died, followed by the projection screens fizzling out, and down went the music too, replaced by white noise. Then, there was a deathly silence.

"_They _were already here."

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Here is to a happy new year and Entry 1.11 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. For today's episode, lots of stuff happened, though I imagine pretty much everyone's attention was on the fight. I hope I managed to capture the details, the atmosphere, and such pretty well.

Now, I bet everyone was expecting a lot more "Spell Slinging" and "Yell the Attack Name", but this is not your classical Mage Battle. The latter was actually happening, but since they are wearing helmets, you can't hear the attack names, plus it's not always smart to announce your attack to the other guy. These kids are trained to be soldiers, and as such, they will do their damned best "to close with, and destroy the enemy, through fire and manuever" using their superior firepower, mobility, and defense afforded by Magic.

"Spell Slinging", on the other hand, is much more common among older and vastly more powerful Mid-Childa Mages, who use the older "versions" of the Mid-Childa system. Among modern Mid-Childa Mages, only accomplished Defensive-types can pull off the said feat because their defense is so absolute they can afford to stand still and just blow you away. Binds have no affect on them; the only sure-fire way to hurt them is to use a combination of Curse-type and Siege / Bombardment level spells. Of course, you can also find "Spell Slingers" among wild mages and Contract Mages "out there" who do not go by the Mid-Childa system.

Now, this is just mage combat at the 2-D level; once you factor in the skills from Flight School, Space School, and even further down the line at other specialist schools in combat-specific professions, things get a lot more crazy. Having more people to move around in the fight helps too; then, you can get super tactical. Teleport troops in here, rain air mobile artillery over there, orbital bombardment... Yeah.

Anyways, I hope this episode was worth the wait and enjoyable to you all, even if Chrono was spectating the whole thing. Trust me, once we get to "fight" in his shoes, things will be a lot more interesting. After all, being in the thick of the "fight" yourself, instead of watching it is a whole lot more exciting.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 20 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	12. Entry 1 12: Grand Standing

* * *

Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.12:

Grand Standing

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Chaos was the order of the day. Panic and frantic screams punctuated the air, broken on occasion by a calm droning voice amplified over megaphones and the thuds of riot guns, as the spectators desperately tried to escape through the designated exits, following the emergency lights. Being arrested in a place like this and at this ungodly hour was bound to bring serious ramifications from the Honor Court, and who knows, maybe even a possible "expulsion".

"Do Not Resist. Do Not Run. By Order of the Honor Court, you are under arrest in violation..." so went the message, while figures robed in black with crested helmets came pouring out of the east side passages like blackened blood from an infected wound. I strongly doubt they could have arrested everyone for their numbers were far too few for such a task; maybe a hundred to two-hundred "officers" at most. Of course, they were students, "volunteers" likely from the Student Disciplinary Committee looking to have some "fun" on a Saturday at someone else's expense.

Oh, and what fun they had: the clouds of white smoke and "tears, cough, and snot" gas (CS gas, pardon my vernacular) bloomed ahead of their advance, positively choking and adding more to the fear and confusion. Those unfortunate to be caught were treated to a textbook case of "assault and battery" (again, pardon my vernacular. I believe, it is Sergeant Major Walon Vau's lessons talking through me) via riot shields and stun batons. Then, the "criminals" would be left to those in the rear to "secure", while the frontline continued its relentless advance.

Even for youths, who had never seen real combat in their lives, they were remarkably disciplined, a faceless moving wall of black.

"Hey, **noobs**!" Ryuune shouted at us from by the hatch. Prepared she was to make a run for it in all good sense, her trenchcoat buttoned up and her leather gloves back on her hands, as there was nothing to gain for her by remaining here after all. "I hate to break it to ya, but that's our cue to haul jets, astral?"

"Oh, you mean, exit stage right?" Nagi giggled, not the slightest bit perturbed by the grave situation.

"Exit-what?"

"Hm? ...Oh, **oh**! Sorry, I had no idea you have never heard of the expression before, my good lady!"

"Holy Sith, cut the crap and move your _shebs_, pixie boy. We already know you're not firing on all thrusters; you don't have to prove it to us."

Well, it seems they are in good spirits.

"I would be happy to flee in your company, but the purpose of us coming here has finally been made clear, do you not agree, Heroic Chrono?"

I gave him an incredulous look, almost mirroring the fiery one Ryuune gave our pale prince from the north. Yes, S.E.E.S. had shown up as I hoped they would for so long; yes, tonight would be --- no --- this very moment was the time for me to make my stand. The problem was: I had no idea who I was supposed to make my stand against! There was a small army out there, roughly three companies worth, and I was quite sane enough to realize I had no hope of stopping of them by myself. Not to mention, the absurd notion of trying to rally the fleeing mobs of students against their "attackers" was out of the question, absolutely.

Such an act was not my purpose. I had come to issue a challenge, to stake my claim, but for the life of me, I could not see anyone over there that seemed to be in charge of this operation!

Wait...

I feel as if I have forgotten something important in the middle of all this "excitement."

"**Harlaown**, you'd _better _got a good reason for this..."

"Peace, peace! Do not disturb him; he is about to remember something important!"

All those fellows in black are not my real objective. In fact, they are not even real members of S.E.E.S., just outside help "volun-told" for the operation. Someone had to be directing them to move, as it was wholly irresponsible to cut them loose. Their actions would be no better than that of a mob; therefore, if their commanders were not out in the open, than they had to be somewhere close by. Not to mention, the head of the Student Disciplinary Committee was to be in attendance for tonight's raid too, so it is only logical they did not want to risk him or her out in the open.

"Nagi," I fixed myself to move out post-haste, "do you have anything that can patch into the local comm-link traffic and ascertain its source? They likely are using second-hand or training equipment that does not have encrypted channels or scramblers to protect themselves from eavesdroppers."

Nagi smiled gleefully. Even to this day, I find it most disturbing how well-prepared he comes for any circumstance.

"That I do, but might I suggest making our convenient escape first? After all, I have quite the hunch where they ought to be right about now."

"And just how in the flaming _droyk _do you plan on making us disappear?" seethed Ryuune. Judging by her face-palm'd expression, she clearly thought we had both lost our minds. I would protest such a presumption but I imagine it would have ill consequences for my health at the time.

As for _The Fool_, he was happy to demonstrate his "Magic". Turning his cover to a smart angle (almost violating regulations to be honest), he reached under the central seat I had been occupying moments ago, fiddling around with some manner of disguised panel. A moment later, we were rewarded with several satisfactory clicks, before Nagi stepped back and kicked the seat, revealing no less a hidden trap door.

"It never hurts to be prepared," he said producing an illuminator from his trenchcoat, before tossing his dufflebag down the shaft. The fact, we did not hear the impact immediately spoke volumes for its darkened depths.

I nodded, favoring the rungs of the ladder that with some skepticism. I prayed it would hold until we got down.

"Well, then, mi'lord and lady... Ladies, first?"

Ryuune sighed.

"_Artai_, you're going to **pay **for this some day, mark my words."

* * *

The descent was much too long for comfort, knowing what was going on above us. I was the last in and had the honor of closing the trapdoor behind us, as we made our journey down the claustrophobic shaft. With Nagi's illuminator as our only light, every rung tended to be a touch treacherous, mostly for the Corellian girl below us for she had the unenviable task of taking point. We spared not a word for each other, though I could have sworn I heard our mutual sponsor humming, as if this were nothing but another a "normal" day at the "office".

Thankfully, we arrived eventually at the bottom, greeted no less by Nagi's duffle bag that was mercifully intact. I would have been quite displeased if we had discovered scorches and chunks of cooling debris from accidental blaster discharge. Why? Because I had been shot by the damned things earlier this night, and I was in no mood to see their handiwork any time soon.

For the next leg of our trip, it was Nagi once more than guided us, a comm-bead in his ear, a luminator in one hand, and some manner of scanner in the other. My hunch had proven correct, so I thought; I could only trust he was leading us in the right direction for it was pitch black all around us. We were somewhere in the bowels of the coliseum, so I imagined, which was labyrinth all to its own, with winding passages and straight corridors intersecting at random along our path. There was no light save for our own, and the temperature and atmosphere was decidedly --- frosty.

It did not take long for me to come to the absurd conclusion that the interior of this structure was much larger than its outward appearance. In fact, I imagine there was no "scientific" explanation for its existence, which would have bulged out from the limited foundations of the structure. Magic was the only to explain it all, as I imagined someone was playing with the "space" available and creating some on the order of spatial "pocket" to make room for this "maintenance" block.

Noise disciplined remained the same, that is, we spoke not a word, and in this fashion we continued for sometime, before Nagi came a halt. He turned about, making eye contact with us, and tapped on his temple twice with his middle and forefinger, a basic hand signal we learned back in Recruit Training that meant he wanted to speak with us using the Magi-Link Telepathy. It was an innate skill that all mages possessed that I assure you is not psychic in nature like the Force, but magical in origin and dealt with the Linker Core in our bodies (the exact explanation and possible tactical applications I shall spare you for another time).

_We are almost right on top of them_, he informed us, his mellifluous voice carrying in our "hearts" with a melodic echo commonplace in telepathic communication. _Just up ahead, we shall arrive shortly at a cat walk that runs above the meeting room, mi'lord and lady. Our illuminator we must do without from here on, but do not fear the dark. I assure you there should be enough light for our eyes._

How he knew this I did not know; we had no choice but to trust him.

Before he killed the lights though, Nagi made sure to stow his equipment back into his dufflebag, and then he did a most curious thing: he procured a sword and handed it to me. It was another a Weapon Device; this I was certain of, though the model I did not know because of its "high-tech" design. The device eschewed a conventional bladed edge for a row of "Beam" emitters all along its "blade", much like the ones I had seen from Gabe Glow's Bruiser Knight. An adult could have wielded this "Zanber" (or "Slash Saber" --- the term, a testament to its destructive cutting power I later learned) one-handed with ease, but as for myself I needed both hands due to my youth.

_And just what in the blue blazes is Harlaown going to need _**that **_for_? Ryuune eyed him, a visible agitated tic in her brow.

The albino boy giggled at her, caught up seemingly in a private joke. "That I know, and you shall see! Come along, come along; grab my shoulders! You might get lost, yes?"

Ryuune, I imagine, probably could give less than a damn for S.O.P., and judging by the now violent tic in her brow, she badly wanted to wipe that smugness off Nagi's face. If she did not need him to get her out of this place in one piece, I am certain she would act on her impetus. I for one could only sigh inwardly, and pray that perhaps these two will resolve their differences peacefully some day, perhaps.

We grabbed a hold and continued on, trusting the prince from the north to set the pace for us. I could not see a bloody thing, and the reverberation of our footsteps was disorienting me even more in the dark. My Corellian colleague likely was not in much better shape, and I did not want to think of the nightmare, if either of us were to lose our guide (for we clearly lacked natural born "tunnel rat" instincts). To our mutual relief, the dark did clear eventually, shapes becoming visible to us with the increasing luminescence, and just a little further, we began to hear the hum of circulation ducts.

"You insufferable, puny brat, how dare you cross us!" an indignant cry echoed forth from up ahead.

Nagi slowed his pace perceptibly to maintain our tentative stealth, as we drew closer to the source of the rancor, and the passage began to brighten to our deprived eyes, bringing shapes into focus.

"_Oh ho ho ho_! Do you think it is wise to be flapping your lips at an Einzbern?" riposted a girlish giggle, flighty and full of scorn. "Illyasviel's entourage does not take kindly to self-important swine, especially Ilya's wooly big friend here. Yes, Czerbahzacca?"

The beastial roar of approval sent the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, neatly, for it was a primal sound that no near-human species could produce. It was undeniable proof we had a wookie down there, and I had arrived at a critical precipice in my mission: to turn back now would destroy me for certain, while to forge ahead held the promise of destruction but also glory and the beginnings of a legacy to be remembered.

"I will not run," I told myself, as we appeared at our overlook at last, masked in the rafters above the lit chamber.

Chrono the Blue Breaker would never cut and run from a little thing like this, with his tail between his legs whining. The world will not change; the galaxy will not save itself; the universe will never know peace from cowardice. Guts and hard work that was the only way he knew to change everything, to make the impossible possible, even if it meant he was about to dive in headlong into a metaphorical den of angry Kath Hounds who were about ready to tear each other part.

Closer observation of the two parties gathered at the time revealed that my analogy was not too far off the mark, honestly. There were roughly forty individuals in the chamber, split twenty a piece, ages twelve to sixteen, and mostly humans or near-humans, the exception being my wookie adversary. The Student Extracurricular Execution Squads members were easily distinguishable by their black hooded greatcoats and air of arrogance, as their junior members continued to work at a portable communications station. I suppose, I ought to praise their discipline, relaying orders tirelessly to the "grunts" up above, even though there were armed "interlopers" in their "command bunker".

Electrostaffs were the order of the day, bristling out among the ranks of the Royal Rajah Troupe's "goons" like pikes, in a display of martial "we are going to paint the walls brown and black with your _shavit_". At least, I assumed these fellows were with _The Coliseum _staff for the event, dressed in camouflage utilities like my own. They, too, followed a similar demographic to S.E.E.S. for their members, whom I should add were quite incensed, judging by their scowls and snarls, and out for blood.

Naturally, both sides had leaders for this particular encounter.

"I, Rajah the Twelfth (LXVII), negotiated a contract with the Council!" spoke up a squat looking human boy at the head of the formation. The reddish tan of his skin and dark hair, marked him as a likely native from a desert region; his brown-orange _keffiyeh_ further evidence of his origins; his only armament appeared to be a vibrosword, patterned after a scimitar, which remained dangling off his hip by his belt. "All our dues have been paid on time, and as agreed, a portion of the proceeds tonight would have gone to the coffers of the Treasury, yet-! **You **have broken that sacred agreement!"

His counterpart, a "human" girl, felt eerily familiar. For starters, she appeared to have the same peculiar albinism as Nagi had, but to a more beauteous aesthetic: silvery alabaster hair that I imagine would have taken on a fantastic luminescence in moonlight, and ethereally fair skin. Enthralling ruby red eyes completed the lithe, slim frame of a girl-child that seemed to be the spitting image of a fabled fairy, dressed in a ostentatious, ceremonial white uniform with gold trappings, and even a saber buckled at her hip.

Had I seen her somewhere before? Even her surname felt familiar... Everything about her screamed someone of "Noble" lineage...

"_Tee hee hee_, is that so?" she giggled coyly, "I, as Judge of the Student Disciplinary Committee, thought we could **negotiate **--- a more _competitive _deal. Ilya has the full approval of the President, you know?"

They were fighting over credits?! This entire operation has been sanctioned by the Student Council's President? And on top that, that girl is the Judge of the Student Disciplinary Committee too? By Mystra, was this all coincidence or is Nagi Dai Artai an even more cunning devil than I fathomed at?

The Rajah spluttered in flabbergasted shock, his eyes blinking repeatedly in denial of the shear audacity he faced coming from the fey-like girl. Her bullish belligerent actions, to myself, proved to be mounting evidence in favor of her possible esteemed heritage; if not, then at the very least she was a textbook "spoiled, arrogant brat". What reasons she had for doing so, I had a number of theories on the subject, but I felt I would discover the truth enough.

At that point, I still did not know what blood lust felt like; however, it did not take an idiot to figure out that the proverbial _shavit_ was about to hit the compressor. There would be a most "spectacular" blood bath, unless someone defused the situation...

"Y-Y..._YOU SCUM_!" howled the Rajah in fury, drawing his vibrosword at last to a roar approval from his colleagues.

But there was no fear from Ilya. She favored them merely with an incredulous laugh, as if they were an inconsequential rabble, while her black-clad "men" moved forward to form a line to meet the imminent threat.

"GET-!"

...now.

I discourage, strongly, attempting to reproduce the same feat you are about to hear of, as logically it should have never worked in the first place. Of course, it was the first of many feats that I would find myself performing many more times than any person should do in their lifetime. Without a word to neither Ryuune or Nagi, I tucked the zanber into my armpit and vaulted over the railing, dropping down into the fray. The former was likely surprised; the latter gratified that I was fulfilling his expectations of a "Hero": bold and foolishly brave. Though I assure you such feelings were the furthest notions from my mind, electrified by impetus and adrenaline, because I thought myself a complete idiot in the split instant of realization.

I had no idea what had even come over me, and here I was descending, about to land from a considerable drop that would have my knees and shins screaming in protest (if I were older, it may not have hurt as much). Nevertheless, the element of surprise was on my side and to them, not expecting an attack from above, I must have appeared to be little more than a blur of blue-grey that suddenly ignited with an array of crackling blue blades. Accompanied by a pitched whine, the mana-powered blades effortlessly sheared through the brandished vibrosword in twain.

My desert-born counterpart's expression drooped in comical bewilderment, his voice dead in his throat, as I stepped into his guard and pivoted, throwing my full body weight into the blow. Reading my intentions, the weapon device cutoff power to its "blade" emitters, and dispersed the killing blades into a shower of trace particles. The naked flat hammered into the Rajah's temple, a vicious audible impact that expressed itself in his eyes bulging out and crossing. Such was the violence of my strike, he swooned dead away, which surprised even myself for the older boy was a full four heads taller than me, and here he went careening over to the side into an unconscious heap.

_Kra_-**THUD**.

Dead silence reigned in the room; I could feel their eyes on me; everyone with the same dumbfounded, gaping look on their faces. To be frank, I had the same expression as well beneath the cool facade I wore then. A raging fire was burning in my veins, the thud of my heart perceptible to my ears, and my "other" senses brimming with excited anticipation, ready to bring forth the power that lay within me. I was at a loss for words. Everything had happened so suddenly.

I do not even recall drawing the weapon device or the impact from my landing. Instinctively, I had acted, and once more, that primal drive moved me against my own accord, planting a boot firmly on the poor unconscious fellow. I bent over forwards, exuding an air of absolute bravado: one arm resting on my thigh while the other slung the zanber, cocked bombastically at an angle, across my shoulders.

A cocky grin cemented itself upon my face, and my eyes "smiled", glittering of mischief and a complete disregard for the odds: one down, leaving thirty-nine to one. "Sounds fantastic!" I suppose would have been the audacious statement, though I for one would be happy to succumb to bowel clenching terror. Taking down one "man" by surprise was easy; trying to incapacitate thirty-nine other persons who could see you in plain view was a different story altogether.

I needed to play my cards smart...

"HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY! Bargin' in on ME an' GOOD TIMES, ROCKING TIMES... Who woulda thought a pretty face like that had balls hiding in 'em baby white breeches!"

...Frak! Did I just say THAT!?

The effect of my outrageous bellow, a manly fiery candor that should not even be possible from my still immature voice, was lightning quick and devastating. Jaws dropped, eyes bugged out, electrostaffs clattered noisily onto the ground through nerveless fingers; if they were stunned before from my abrupt "retirement" of the Rajah, then I had just achieved a new level of astonishment.

"But, you know what? The jig is up, FABULOUS!" my own body hollered onward; joyous, unrepentant, and frightening the hell out of me. What manner of madness had gripped me?! Had I cracked underneath the pressure?

The Rajah's troupe was lacking, understandably, a strong spokesman (or leader) for that matter to speak up, but the black-clad young "men" opposite of them had no such "technical" difficulties. In mounting evidence to her possible noble heritage, Illyasviel von Einzbern displayed another habit, which I recall from my many talks with Grandmother that was all too common amongst the "Old Bloods": Vanity. After all, they were a people used to privilege and having their way.

For a scoundrel like me to appear out of nowhere, make a mess of things, and insult her...

"BASTARD! Who in the Nine Hells are you?!" she roared, pushing aside one of her "men" with surprising force to send him toppling over forwards in an undignified heap.

Her face was beet red, the air about her person had changed, charged to the brim with electric fury, and more terrifying yet, I swore I saw --- **veins** --- blaze bright crimson upon her face in wrought geometric furrows, for an instant. Now, I do not mean the blood vessel mind you, I --- perhaps, the term "Circuits" is more appropriate (I was to learn later that indeed they were Magic Circuits, more than any human should have). If I had been my ordinary self then, I would have reconsidered my options under a surge of doubt; courageous I am but a fool I would rather not be, especially the posthumous promotion kind.

Of course, my instincts were quite happy to shred my caution to the wind, "WHAAA-AT! You don't know?! Well then, ALL o' you perk up 'em ears and listen real savvy-like, 'cause I'll tell you WHO!"

It was madness, and I was convinced I had cracked under the pressure. After all, how was it possible that mentally I could be swimming in fear and doubt, yet physically I was confident and invincible, speaking my with a damned care in the world? Impossible; I must be afflicted with some psychological disorder that has split my consciousness in two, but that sounded just as outrageous as my present conundrum. The last time I had my psych-eval, the "shrinks" had certified me fit and able for duty!

"Fashionably belated, six solar cycles after has HE come at last! He won't lose, won't die, and won't regret; no time to look back, no time to hesitate! You don't have a prayer in Hell against this Man's will! Chrono, the Blue Breaker, in the flesh: at your service! Yours and the Student Council's days are numbered, Illyasviel von Einzbern. Been long time a-comin', and it starts here; it starts now. You. Me. And the Big Wooly Carpetbag!"

The reaction was unanimous: the remaining electrostaffs clattered to the floor, as a cacophony of laughter gripped the chamber. Boys from both sides were keeling over clutching their sides, some already rolling on the ground, and others holding onto each other for support; incredulous and filled with mirth. Even the comm-link operators in the back were gripped in a similar mania, much to the confusion of the platoon commanders above ground no doubt. So did Ilya's rage drain away instantly, replaced by a haughty bellowing "Oh ho ho ho!" as she genuflected daintily like a queen at her court, while her other hand rested on the handle of her sword.

The only one who was not laughing was the wookie.

"Oh ho ho! Ah-hahaha! ...oh my! This is too much," she giggled.

He was staring at me with hard eyes, the sort one would favor a rabid animal stalking down the street.

"You must be an **idiot **to challenge us!"

"Not just an idiot but a Super Idiot!" I riposted without pause, brandishing the zanber at her with a bold whip. "And you damn better believe it I am challengin' you, mano-a-mano, a duel for your Title, Miss Fake Judge! Two full moons from now in Martius, in front of the whole _**Il**_-legit Council to make it real!"

"Oh, and what do **I** get for the wager, O _Low _and _Lofty _Broken Blue?"

"**Me**. Nothin' more important to a real man than his integrity."

"Good! Just what Ilya wanted," she took off one of her immaculate gloves, and spat onto her naked hand. "A Noble's Courtesy then?"

Patroness of Magic and Mysteries, Mystra be praised, for She works in mysterious ways indeed: that admission confirms my suspicions. The Einzbern is a noble, and a familiar one at that too; with some additional "snooping" I might be able to ascertain the truth of my other dangling suspicions. Of course, if she was asking for a "Noble's Courtesy", things were going just as planned (despite my present lack of tangible control over my person), for it meant she would not fight me personally, but send someone else in her place. Thank you, Grandmother, for all those afternoons we spent discussing "Politics".

"A promise! I'll clean up this whole town; just watch me!" I stepped off of the poor unconscious fellow to return the gesture similarly.

It was a sobering moment for all gathered, understandably: a play for power that could have grave consequences for their doubled lives. A new "sheriff in town" had many meanings, and for myself in particular, big changes were coming should my gambit succeed --- no, it will succeed. I have not come this far just to fail; I will win.

"_Tee hee hee_, then you are fool, just. like. your. _father_," she lilted, an uncharacteristic sneer playing acidly across her lips, as she abruptly danced away.

Sensing foul play of a kind, my damned brave self hopped back, the weapon device igniting ablaze with a whine and ionizing air, "Not like _That Guy_! I am my own kinda FOOL! C'mon!"

"Get him, _BAH-SAH-KAAA_; give him a taste of your power, _tee hee hee_!"

Unleashed at the Einzbern's behest, the wookie exploded slipping through the alarmed black-clad agents of S.E.E.S., swift as a _vargr_ cutting through the brush to ambush its prey. To my eyes, I merely caught a glimmer of blue that trailed into an after-shadow, tracing a tall silhouette where my opponent once stood. I later the "glimmer" learned was an effect from the power belt's "Power Field" Boost-type spell protocol firing up.

Now, at the time, I swear to you I was a complete novice with the sword. Weapons Specialization Training classes would not be on my plate until the next trimester where cadets could begin honing our skills in "martial traditions" of our preference, in addition to our unarmed fighting techniques and modern "warfighter" disciplines. The fact, I was able to fight against a superior opponent nearly twice my height, and practically the size of a human adult despite his youth, untrained amazes me to this day.

He was upon me in an instant, towering but bearing oddly no malevolence. Cold and completely focused, like a surgical laser, Czerbahzacca struck out with a fist that could have easily encircled my head without a problem. A naked strike would likely knock me out in one blow, the right straight careening through the air, but to my fortunate, my instincts saved me from the paralysis of stupefied awe.

Instead of blocking, I met the strike head on, assuming a shoddy stance, and swinging the zanber with my arms (an amateur's mistake). A terrible crashing noise assaulted my ears, and to my disbelieving eyes, the image of the _magick_'d blades shattering on impact in a flurry of sparks and flash. It was to no surprise that the wookie overpowered me easily, the shock of forces numbing my arms and nearly disarming me, as I backpedalled wildly trying to counteract the momentum flowing through me.

The fellows from the Rajah Troupe took this as their cue to cut and run for safety, much to my relief. Adrenaline pumping into my blood sharpened my dulling senses into action, and I could feel a new fire burning in my "veins": magic. The weapon device was coaxing more mana, forcibly, through my circuits to reforge the broken "teeth" along its killing "edge". I for one was much too busy to be alarmed by such a drain; he came again, quick and surgical, ducking in low with an underhanded hook.

Fearful of my guard being penetrated, I leapt aside with an almost comical yowl, swinging awkwardly to meet the blow. Another crash, but since I did not have my feet planted on the ground, I felt a new extent of the wookie's power. I flew, air ruffling my clothes and hair, a sharp spike of pain detonating in my limbs, as the zanber was wrestled out of my two-handed grip into a weak, barely there, single. If I were a normal cadet, I suppose that would have been the end of me right there.

However, "Normal" I was not. The "Old Days", though not that really long ago, with the Sergeant Major, memories even I have not detailed yet in this tale resurfaced, and the soldier, the warrior, the Mandalorian in me returned, kicking this damned fool of a wannabe hero out of the "pilot's" seat. I ignored the pain, forced the fear away, and focused on just this moment; the odds were slim, the rift between myself and this wooly bastard too great, but the longer I stayed in the fight, the more I could ascertain of his strength and use it against him later.

With a snarl, I kicked out, wrestling internally with my posture so that I would fall flat on my back or my face, from the ensuing impact. My boots squealed against the floor, a shock wrenching up my knees, singing with needles of pain, but I did not stop. I was skidding back, absurdly so, threatening to topple over, so I reversed my grip on the zanber and stabbed straight down. The magical blades pierced the concrete floor with ease, spraying dust and debris, as it cut an ugly mark in its wake, bleeding the momentum out of me.

Of course, I noticed then that the blades were not plasma or particle-beam based at all like a light saber, much to my private intrigue (the answer to their constitution would not come to me until later). They were solid beautiful constructs with a superbly sharp monomolecular edge to have been able to penetrate such a dense solid mass with ease, especially considering my juvenile strength. Alas, there was no time to marvel at its intricacies for the "Berserker" was on me again; curse him.

Again, there was the burn of mana extracted from my circuits rapidly to reforge the lost blades and restore the sharpness on the ones I had used to "brake" myself. An annoyance, but one I was willing to forgive, as I had a few heartbeats to spare before Czerbahzacca's roundhouse right came screaming at me. Too slow, too weak; I could only pathetically raise my free arm to shield my face as a meager defense, tensing my body for the imminent impact.

Such a defensive instinct honed thanks to the Sergeant Major Walon Vau and Ryuune Zoldark saved me a great deal of agony, as it is this particular stimuli that activates the Power Belt's defensive functions. Unlike Nagi's earlier "experiment", though, it failed to repulse the wookie's attack. I felt an electric sensation humming over my body, the burn on my mana reserves spiking with a well of nausea, but I saw distinctly a bluish silhouette slipped over me like a second skin.

For an instant, the massive fist hung repulsed before me, the air between us whipped and tossed, dispersing in a violent maelstrom, and I could see a similar bluish silhouette enveloping Czerbahzacca's form too. His expression was that of absolute concentration, and there came a most terrible headache upon me, as if I had been struck one too many times by Ryuune's one-two "swinger" punch combination, pins and needles driven into my skull. I buckled underneath the pressure, a most unpleasant mistake, for I later learned that it was my mental concentration combined with my mana output that sustains the barrier.

_**Thwack**_!

At the time, it was the first punch I had ever taken: pain exploded from my sternum, burning, extracting a choked hiss through clenched teeth, as I staggered back wildly. My vision grew darker around the edges, classic symptoms of tunnel vision. I did not even have a chance to ascertain the extent of the damage from the dissipating kinetic energy (most of it mercifully lost thanks to the barrier and my greatcoat) when the second strike hit me.

Fortunately, my base instincts were able coagulate together enough will to raise the barrier, a paltry common sense attempt at self-preservation. The uppercut homed in from below, lifting me off the ground, sucking the breath out of me; it was no surprise that breathing suddenly became extraordinarily difficult, and my vision doubled and tripled showing me illusions of my opponent. Of course, I knew there was only one of him, for despite the catastrophe befalling me, my mind was clear and objective, disturbingly, while the edges of darkness grew blacker.

Logic dictated there was no way I could come back from this fight now, and my reasonable self believed it. I was in horrible shape and --- _**KRAK**_! --- I just took a roundhouse finisher to the face, buffered barely by the Power Belt's barrier. My world spun, I spun, my neck muscles strained trying to prevent my head from twisting about a full three-sixty, and we sailed away in a perfect spiraling parabolic arc through the air, amidst a shower of bluish particles. I came crashing back down some distance away, thudding limply onto my back, blood dribbling away from a split lip to join the trail of saliva and slaver: a broken doll.

The world was black, pitch black, and I sensed I was slipping away into blissful unconsciousness, if I was not there already. I could not feel a thing, not because of numbness, but an absence of sensation altogether. My body; I had had enough. A blast of loathing shame hit me, an immature impetus, for this occasion was the first time I had been thrashed so thoroughly by someone I considered an "opponent", some I had to defeat, yet I had lost, clearly. So great were my feelings that I wanted, then, to just slip away into the darkness and sulk it off; after all, I would have my second chance in two months time.

What would it prove for me to get up again? Nothing. Only a damned fool hero would want to get up.

And speak of the devils, I **did**.

It began as a flame, a fire burning in the "veins" of my right hand, still clutching tightly to something in a white-knuckled death grip; the foreign thing stole from me yet it gave to me too, lifting the veil of night. There, a pin prick of light, and then another, and more to come until the whole "world" shattered, blazing bright for an instant. I was standing, a feral smile tugging at my lips, and a fresh set of blades gleaming along the edge of the zanber. Every fiber of my being was protesting this "abuse"; unknown amount of damage internally; better to lie back down and wait for proper medical; insanity.

"Heh! **That **was a pretty nice punch, _hah_, ya big mixed-up wooly carpet bastard," I croaked aloud, almost savagely, to the bewildered eyes and agape faces watching me. The other "me" had taken control, again, much to my horror.

The wookie (mind you he was not hairy or wooly at all, as Nagi's explained to me some time ago, he had shaven himself in order to be able wear our uniforms and clothes) eyed me, coolly. However, I did not miss the subtle aggravated flick of his wrists. He seemed to be of the same opinion as everyone else, including the reasonable "me", that I should not be standing after the thrashing he had put me through.

Illyasviel, understandably, was the first one to voice her shock, "Y-You..._Idiot_! Even nails know better to say down when they have been hammered, Harlaown."

"_Hnnn_, well, I guess that's just the difference between **men **an' nails. Too stubborn to stay down. Too stubborn to know when to quit."

"Do you wish to die, _Idiot_?!"

"So the big hairy beast bastard has another card left to play, Miss Fake Judge? So I guess, the saying is true that you can teach an old hound a few new tricks. Hehe, and you bet, I'm happy to be awake to see it now, instead of later when it's important, yeah?"

At that moment, the proverbial ewok caught the proud noble by her tongue. Her face flushed beet red in fury; she worked her mouth trying to spit out some carefully wrought riposte, but her wit failed her miserably. Unbelievably so, the "Brave Idiot" had **caught **this silver-white minx, who was no doubt familiar with the workings of "The _Arcana Mana_", the plays, the tricks, the betrayals, and all. A precarious trap he had caught her in: to retreat would make her lose face in front of her men, and to fight ran the risk of possibly killing me, but also revealing her champion's trump card.

Judging from her character, I sorely doubted these fellows followed her out of honor or duty. Their loyalties were tenuous at best, except for _him_. The wookie simply remained in place, coiled up like a vurpine viper, ready to cut me down; his big eyes gleaming with unnatural focus.

"_Rrrrghh_...! You will regret _humiliating _Ilyasviel von Einzbern, _boy_. Mark. My. Words. In two full moons, I will have you parading the avenues naked on a _PIKE_! Son of the Hero or not, I will BREAK you! Come, _**men**_, away we go."

The black-clad boys and girls did not respond at first, but a meaningful snarl from Czerbahzacca, like the baying of a warg hound calling its pack to order, got them moving. Illya and her champion disappeared gracefully into the throng of activity, and before I knew it, they all left, leaving the room queerly quiet. It was amazing: who would have thought it was possible to end a battle by shedding some of your own blood, instead of the enemy's?

"_Hey_! I said, '_HEY_!' I am about to pass the Corellian overdrive out, so could you two up there, _puh_-lease, take care of the rest of things for me, real savvy-like? _Astral_...ye-ah..."

Medic.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.12 in all of its glory. Phew, this one has been a long time coming; I am so not going to drag my feet and write a chapter this long again. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas

Technically, not a whole lot happened here, but it was still a step in the right direction. I hoped you all enjoyed the cameos, the little details, and the short low-tech / high-tech fight at the end. Yeah, having a proper device with a Barrier Jacket or at least some kind of combat suit is really a must, since these technosorcery weapons are overkill mostly against an ordinary being. Of course, if you have a combination of smarts, skill, and physical aptitude not to get hit in the first place that works too. Not fighting a wookie in the hand to hand combat level also helps too.

Anyways, next episode should be more fun (and hopefully faster to write): don't you all just love Valentine's and White Day?

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. He just got chappie 21 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	13. Entry 1 13: Lucky Red

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Disclaimer: 

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.13:

The Lucky Red

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

The "loss" of time was bewildering, to say the least, when consciousness returned and I found myself dropped back into the "Land of the Living". After my first experience just some short weeks ago, thanks to Ryuune Zoldark, I should have known that this sort of experience was to be a regular fact of my lifestyle: waking up from the brink of nowhere, no return, to a familiar (or unfamiliar) ceiling. A curious beep to the side, accompanied by a hiss of air, alerted to me to the fact that someone thought my condition serious enough to put me on basic life support, judging by the EKG monitoring my heartbeat and the mechanical respirator feeding air to clear rebreather mask. They even tacked on an IV drip, two lines, one with the usual saline solution and the other chalky white colloid I could not identify.

I was tempted to spout of a cheap snide remark at the "Docs" for the overkill, I perceived, in my treatment. After all, a Wookie, armed with a magical device that not only protects him but enhances the striking power of his fists too, had only hammered me a few times. My condition could not be too terrible to warrant such a response, yes? Oh well, I suppose, a patient should not complain unless his medical care is grossly inadequate, and is that --- _purring_ --- I am hearing?

I tried to move but discovered oddly that someone had secured me firmly to the hospital bed with belt straps, attached to the undercarriage. You can imagine my astonishment: why in Mystra would they find it necessary to restrain me? Still, I was able to crane my neck around at least, and ascertaining the source of my curiosity did not take too long; in fact, it was lying right next to me, astride my pillow. It was the biggest "kitten" I had ever seen in my short life, more like a miniature of the fully grown adult predator, with an oddly familiar silver-grey coat and lighter patches of off-white on the underbody, jaws, chin, and throat. Another eight years yet it would be, before I learned that this particular specimen was in fact a cougar, a native species from a far away little blue planet many, many light years away.

Why it was so small, the answer to that question would come much sooner to me.

"Don't try to move the **cat**," a familiar nonchalant drawl greeted my ears, directing me to my free bedside. "It's been there, since they got you out of the I.C.U. three days ago. Yes! It's been watching over you this entire time, so don't feel bad if that fairy pixie _chubba_, Artai, wasn't here to wait on you."

...well, that's some shocking news, though I am relieved Nagi Dai Artai was not the first thing I woke up to, and pleased to find Ryuune Zoldark here instead, sitting in a chair with a textbook open in her lap. Those dainty spectacles she wore seemed to change her image quite a bit from the usual tomboy to a no nonsense scholar _professora_; I found it cute, combined with our dress uniform and all.

"C-C-Cute!?" the blonde-haired girl choked, rising from her seat, as her complexion turned a most adorable shade of red in instant.

Oh damn, me and my free lips... Time to change the subject, methinks.

"So how did you get the glasses? They look cute on you," I told her frankly.

Dammit! Where the hell did that come from?

"Ku...! _SHAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa_! It's all _that _**cat**'s fault!"

The accusation, understandably, struck a skeptical chord in me at the time, as my plain expression promptly took on a "hanged dog" look.

"Huh... The cat?"

"Yes! The bloody friggin' cat!" she gesticulated irately at the feline, whom I thought was quite cute too in its slumber. "_Kaaa_! You think it's CUTE too!?"

Honestly, I need to learn to reign my tongue in.

"I would not want to meet the real thing out in the wild, especially when it hungers. The full grown adult, I imagine, would not have any qualms putting me on the list for dinner should push come to shove."

"I'll roast the _chubba_ to _Chakta sai kae_, if I get my way!"

"...because?"

"That mangy cat _magick_'d these glasses on me!" she howled with righteous indignation. I was beginning to worry the nurses would barge in to reprimand her for disturbing the other patients in the ward.

An animal that can perform magic? I had no idea that was even --- wait, does this situation not qualify as the work of a "Familiar"? It is a rather advanced field of sorcery, according to my textbook for Honors General Magic Theory I, which I perused through the later chapters some time ago.

"But it's not just any ordinary set of specs! No. No. No. NO! They are charmed, Harlaown; _Charmed_!"

"What kind of charm?" my interest was peaked, you see; then again, just about anything involving magic has my curiosity dancing for joy. If I had not enlisted, I imagine, I would have become quite the professor or researcher instead.

"A Love Charm! Blast it! A burnin' Love Charm! The combat instructors think it is the most hilarious prank in cycles. They all say its beyond their abilities to undo the charm, and oh, _besides_, the flaming thing will wear off by the end of the week anyways! I. Have. A. Fanclub. now, with idiots from both the dumb girls and the dumber boys! They're all idiots, and they've got no sense of tact at all!"

"Females too?"

"Yes, and they try to flirt with me in the showers, in the locker rooms, at lunch, at dinner, at early chow, between classes, in classes, and even, when we're out in the field! By _Tymora_, what did I do to deserve luck this horrible? Ugh, and that cat girl teacher of ours had to go and disappear too, when I wanted to talk to her about something for once!"

The Goddess of Good Fortune? I had no idea she had a spiritual streak in her. And Lieutenant Lotte Lieze is missing? I hope she is all right.

"And why did the cat charm you?"

"Because I was trying to move it --- wait a second, how come you're not affected by the glasses?" she shot me a suspicious squint that caused her spectacles to gleam with a spark for an instant.

Again, I thought it was adorable, yet somehow, I was able to keep my expression deadpanned and neutral, "I do not believe I am immune to the charm; after all, there is always the possibility I was smitten, since the beginning, yes? The charm simply would not have as great of an effect, for I am already an admirer of yours."

Her reaction was sudden, explosive, and utterly spectacular: her complexion flashed through the seven colors of the electromagnetic spectrum, steam appeared to flush out of her ears and forehead, and her eyes became disoriented swirls as she sweated and stuttered non-stop. Frankly, it gave me the perfect impression of a human time bomb. I hope she did not plan to explode, as the gore and such would be rather unpleasant for me, and the crime-scene forensics scientists.

"_Guuu_...! ...I am going home," she deadpanned in literal anti-climax, and made a beeline for the door in a hobbling daze.

Of course, I was not about to let her leave just yet. There was a question on my mind, and considering she was the only one present with the wisdom to make a reasonable appraisal, I had to ask, even though I knew her answer already:

"What are my odds?"

Ryuune paused at the door, the hatch hissing open before her. An air of tension settled in through the ambient hum of the A/C, as she shook ever so subtly, trying to deny that the question had popped to mind. The Corellian, I imagine, strongly did not want to hear _this_ particular question; though I won the morale victory, physically I had been beaten and the result was visible in my condition. So how in the hell did I have the nerve to ask her?

"What _odds_?"

"The training will continue."

She seethed audibly at my stubborn "foolishness", her arm cradling her textbook, twitching as if she meant to throw it at me.

"_Harlaown_, they had to call in a Bone Doc and an Organ Doc to fix you up in surgery. Wherever, the Wookie hit you? He _left_ an impression. You're lucky none of the bone went flying into your organs, or something shattered big time and wound its way into your heart. If it weren't for technology, _period_? You'd be **dead**."

"How long do I have on light duty?"

"That's the other thing that pisses me off! You should be on light duty for the rest of the month, but no, the Docs' say you got until the end of the week. What the _frack _is going on? Sure, we're good; we're the burnin' Time-Space Administration Bureau; the thin blue line that keeps the Galaxy safe! But even **I** know there's got to be a _catch_. Tell me, _Harlaown_, just whose **mouse** are you supposed to be? What kind of little _shavit_-_frak_ maze do they have you running?"

_I wish I knew myself_, I thought to myself then. "It does not matter. They picked on the wrong man, Zoldark, and I will beat this game, one way or another."

"Is that _Daddy_'s little boy talking, _che_?" she sneered, glancing over her shoulder at me, with a look of disgust.

"'_Daddy_'s little boy'?"

"I decided to ask around about you, while you were out. What you did back there wasn't normal, no wet behind the ears six-cycle-old greenhorn could've steeled his guts to do that, so I decided to get to asking around, and what do you know, turns out you're flaming celebrity: you're **Clyde the Hero**'s kid, aren't you?"

Suddenly, I felt a most frozen wrathful anger come over me at the mention of _him_, and adding fuel to the hatred, associating he and I together. Sadly, I was still too young then to understand the reasons for my hatred that had sprung up from nowhere. It would be a long time coming, before my mind was willing to unearth the truth from the darker depths of my heart.

"It does **not **matter," I told her coldly.

"What're you fighting for, _Harlaown_?" she riposted, unfazed.

"For myself and all the innocents caught up in this _game_. I did not ask to be chosen someone's pawn, Zoldark."

"Well, obviously, someone out there has big expectations for you, don't they?"

"I will surpass them and break free."

"You'll die. With odds like this..."

"I won't."

Finally, she uttered an oddly tired sigh, and turned about to face me. Her expression was uncommonly soft, lacking that usual adamantine-edged toughness I had come to expect from my favorite "Corellian hellcat". In her place was --- someone quite different --- enough to bring the heat rushing to my cheeks, and melt my impertinent obstinacy. Could it be the "Love" charm from those bewitching glasses at work?

"I won't cry for you, Chrono."

She left me.

Well, damn it all…

* * *

The week slipped by, days and hours bled into a new month, and before I knew, it was Februum the 14th, T.C. 4653: still cold, snowing, and oddly enough for today, _festive_. I beg your pardon if I am the part of the scrooge on this day set aside as a holiday to celebrate the patron of love and compassion, Valentine; hence, _Valentine_'_s Day_, and the reason classes were cancelled for the day, with professors, combat instructors, non-essential personnel, civilian contractors, and of course, us cadets "conveniently" disappearing in the amorous fervor. I, however, was a scrooge.

Why? Well, I was young then and did not know the significance of Valentine's at the time, not to mention I was more concerned with my dismal progress thus far in my training. I had roughly a month and half left, before my all-or-nothing duel for the title of Judge of the Student Disciplinary Committee, where I would not only gain control of the volunteer police force of cadets, but also the executive powers therein. I could single handedly castrate the Student Council, more or less, leaving them powerless, until they could remove me from office, and knowing bureaucrats and politicians that could take some time, enough time for me to accomplish what I wish, with any luck.

Unfortunately, the possibility of accomplishing that feat grows ever loftier each day. I was not growing stronger quickly enough. I was making stupid mistakes. My frustration was even beginning to affect my performance in classes, and generally, infect my mood with a less than stellar disposition. Ryuune Zoldark was aggravated, to say the least, and she could hardly stand to be in my presence, gazing at me with barely restrained disdain that transformed into a kind of nihilistic cynicism whenever we spared together.

Honestly, I would like to take up Lieutenant Lotte Lieze's advice and take some time off from my non-stop training for R&R. She was worried that I was pushing myself too hard, not to mention:

"_Nyan_, Chrosuke, Lotte doesn't like those eyes... Boring. Dead. Pitch black, just like tar from a cigarette. _Mou_, a girl can't fall in love with eyes like that! Blue! Blue is the color a girl loves!"

Translation: you will go on leave for a few days, you will like it, you will pull your head out of your exhaust; if it don't work, rinse and repeat, 'cause we ain't getting any good training done, until you are straight, got that, _recruit_? ...**Or **do you want me to come over there and fix it for you? You _won't_ like it, if I come over there; I guaran-_frakking_-tee it!

At least, I assume that was her meaning, and with those words in mind, I cleared out my schedule for the day and the following day by 1200 hours. Grabbing a hot tray to go from the nearest dining hall, I set out to find "Peace and Solitude", or my Center, according to Grandfather's teachings. When a warrior strays from his path is when he is most vulnerable, even the most measly, nameless soldier could fell him easily with a damned clumsy blaster, before the hour of honor should arrive.

Trying to find any solitude at all, considering the day, turned out to be quite difficult. Wherever I turned, there were spectacular decorations of red and white, hearts, and angelic Cupid-like figures. To aggravate me more were the crowds of "singles" --- pairing off in mutually sulking pairs and groups, bemoaning the fact that they had received not a single red gift-wrapped chocolate --- and of course, the couples: flirting, exchanging chaste kisses and glances, holding hands, and generally, any private spot they could find. Oh, and at some point, I think I saw Ryuune Zoldark literally being spirited away, high atop a gaudy red throne (to which she was tied to be a wealth of red and white ribbons) being carried by a troop of upperclassmen, while they were chased by various squealing --- "fangirls".

They almost trampled me under foot; bloody inconsiderate youngsters. In fact, shame on her too for spouting profanities as if they were going out of style, though I am impressed that even without the effects of the "Love Charm" in effect, had maintained solidarity. Then again, I think her personality helps: no matter how rough around the edges and generally unfriendly she may seem to be, the Corellian girl was not the sort of individual to act in malice without just cause. She had a strong set of principles she lived by, and bound by them, she could only plead with those love-struck fools to leave her alone; such an act, alas, only endeared her unwittingly more to her fans.

I for one grew increasingly exasperated, until my stomach finally reminded me of sanity, with a healthy growl. It was divine providence, I tell you; here I was, standing right outside the main library in the Aurum Quarter, not too snobby and not too shabby. There was naught a soul in sight, curiously abandoned, and the snow continued to fall in blankets of white.

My instincts had green lights on all panels, well, except for one red light. A slave to my stomach, I complied, and promptly "inhaled" my lunch before heading inside; a useful and somewhat cursed skill I had learned from Recruit Training. After all, in war, you never know how long you will have to eat, so it was your best interest to eat as reasonably swift as possible.

Alas, I find myself being chastised, slapped, and/or forced to comfort more than a few aspiring "chefs" of the female kind for bad table manners --- all too often, in the years after I was finally commissioned and released into the real world.

* * *

The Aurum library was different from the luxury I had come to associate with anything and everything in the Platinum Quarter, my place of residence here on base. My impression from outside applied to the interior decor, not too snobby and not too shabby, combining sensibility with functionality to produce a happy medium, I believe, would be called "middle-class". The fact, they had a fireplace going somewhere for I could hear the faint crackle of embers gave them a scholarly, homey appeal that the Platinum Athenaeum was sorely lacking.

Row upon row of books, articles, and compendiums, lined the tall shelves, fashioned from lighter colored woods to offset the dark carpeting. Your sense of time felt slow here, almost timeless, between the muted lighting from the drawn curtains and humming electric lamps, turned to a tired low. There were only droids at the check-out desk today, and it suited me just fine: being alone with books was a refreshing change of pace from the rigors of the norm.

Amazingly, there was not a soul in sight within the building. I half-expected to find an amorous couple tucked away some place discrete, but between the subtle skittering of mouse droids along the floor, I think, I can see why no one would be caught dead here (this line of thought, however, does not apply on low-tech worlds as I will come to discover in due time). Thus, I was able to find my way over the flaming hearth and settle in with relative peace, from which sprang forth the faintest scent of smoke and the hypnotic, tantalizing warmth of flame.

Three leather recliners were arrayed out before the fireplace, a stylized thing made to appear that it was constructed from "bricks". It was a cozy space, semi-private that commanded an air of respectability in the auburn glow of the flame, to which I happily made myself at home. There was a slight snag in my grand scheme, however: now, that was I was here what was it I should do to **find** my center?

Meditation; my grandfather had taught me, but would that help my situation at all, to think about the past, the present, and the future once more? I did not know. Aside from my martial training, I needed to find a space to practice using the two Weapon Devices that Nagi had lent to me, until further notice. Some instruction on sword forms would help too, if I am too wield the Slash Saber as it was meant...

I sighed inwardly in disgust, feeling my sulk come back to haunt me. Inspiration and courage left the building in a hurry, and with those gone, I resigned myself to gazing into the flame, silently praying that tomorrow never came. I hate to admit it but Ryuune Zoldark had been right: the odds were against me in every way.

A half Human, half Mid-Childan trying to fight a Wookie in a contest of strength that plays entirely into the latter's hands was ritual suicide. Even as an adult with magical and conventional strength enhancements on a level playing field, the Wookie would still crush my skull into a pulpy mess. Genetics was on his side not mine. Knowing his magical potential could have helped but practical experience was on his side too.

In summary, the monopoly I had on unreasonable courage was not going to cut it. I needed more than that to come out on top against him for I was certain Illyasviel's favorite was also training as well. If it was not a physical edge, then at least I needed some kind of mental edge, some faith that will help me to prevail in the face of the seeming inevitability.

What was I fighting for? Had I lost sight of myself?

Yes, perhaps those are the right questions I needed to answer and consider once more. I believe I spoke the truth to Ryuune when she asked the first one that I was fighting for myself and all the innocents caught up in the game. I wanted revenge, an eye for an eye, and by making my grab for power, it would bring me one step closer to **them**. What right did _those _people have to abuse their power and use me as a mouse for their enjoyment? I did not want or ask for any of this; a normal "school" life would have suited me just fine after the rehearsal hell Sergeant Major Walon Vau put me through.

Normal.

Yet, the more I think about it; maybe, just maybe, I do not care at all for the innocents anymore. Maybe since the beginning, they were a convenient excuse to justify my ambition, my revenge that I would be doing good for the benefit of all, but today, looking around me, the average "Joe and Jane" are oblivious, pleasantly, to the grave state affairs around them and the duality of the world they will live in for three odd years. Nobody seemed to care that evil was afoot and some injustice was going unpunished somewhere, happy to conform and turn a blind eye, as long as it was not happening to them in their perfect little microcosm.

Yes, I think I should be more honest with myself. I **will **bring about a change, intended for a "Good" but on my terms, based upon what I have been taught and learned. My enemies will be crushed. My allies will be rewarded. At least, I think that is how a good soldier ought to think.

Personally, I would rather not take the position or had this task thrust into my lap in the first place. Just paying back the bastards who decided to make me their mouse would have been enough, but to have to take on political responsibilities and lay the foundations for reforms and begin the process of "healing"? I would pass on the honor to someone else, if the times did not call, seemingly, for someone like me.

And for the first time in months, I think, I laughed then, laughed at the shear absurdity of it all. Someone or something was trying quite hard to shape me in a certain way, to make me think after a fashion of their choosing. It was a bogus inordinate sum of effort put forth to controlling just one individual, me; behavior modification towards a purpose I could not even fathom. Why pick me? Why, oh, why? I wanted to be just myself, to tear myself away from the shadow of _That Man_.

It seemed the worst happens to individuals who were simply doing the right thing. I have been so busy that I cannot even humor the jeers and the subtle hazing I still go through every day. In fact, that is why things have been so "quiet" for me, I realize: everything is still happening but I have learned to selectively block it out and move on. I had things to do; I could not spare every moment to right every wrong against me.

"Mystra, I can't wait to go home and see Mother again in the Spring," I chuckled my fondest wish, and perhaps, what I wanted the most when this whole fiasco was settled by the end of Martius. "Please, just let me beat these fools, so I can go home in peace. Knowing who I have to protect and knowing what I have to do is enough! The adventure and the mystery are extra, thank you very much."

I felt refreshed at last and filled with a new sense of purpose, like shower of cool rain washing over me after having "fried" for so long in a hard-packed fighting hole, under a blistering hot Dilos' afternoon.

"Uwaaa...! _Blue_," a voice squealed girlishly at my elbow, "So blue! _Kyaaa_! I think I'm in love-_bai_!"

There was little I could do to avoid blushing; it was a naturally embarrassed response at being caught in a private moment with oneself. My voyeur, though, was wholly unrepentant, letting loose another a delighted squeal! I am amazed no one came around to shush her for the blatant violation of noise discipline in a library --- then again, there was no one else here besides she and I.

The young woman, if you had the nerve to call this adolescent bubbling bundle of a girl as such, radiated a rampant charisma of which I had last seen something similar in Lieutenant Lotte Lieze. In fact, based on appearance, she seemed to be of the same species too: same wild silvery brown hair, cut short about shoulder length, powder blue eyes, and the white-tipped feline ears. I did not know where her tail was but I suspected it was underneath our female dress uniform's conservative pleated skirt.

Funny, she looks just like a younger version, if not twin sister of Miss Lieze, fair enough. ...I must be thinking too hard; besides, she is wearing our dress uniform, and is so much younger! Judging by the red-white colored armband she wore and the prodigious satchel she had dangling out in front of the same color scheme, which bore a symbol --- the letter "T" with another bar above it --- marked her as a postal worker. ...well, a part-timer helping out with the special holiday festivities, I imagine.

"Yes, yes! Season's greetings-_bai_!" she chirped, waving a mitten clad hand excitedly, before settling down arms akimbo on her hips. "This part-timer of the Love-Loveless Valentine's Personnel Ad-Hoc Delivery, from the Office of the Post Master, is Mailgirl First-class _Kobato_! And we have a delivery just-for-you, Mister Blue!"

...what? I am receiving a Valentine? From who!?

She reached into her satchel, the action oddly reminding me of a marsupial, and produced a considerable heart-shaped red package tied up with a ribbon in a particular shade cyan that instantly perked my anticipation. There was also a red envelope attached to it, too. Certainly, "Kobato" noticed my blue eyes light up, lit by a flame of joy, and perhaps the beat of my heart race a "little" faster, for her expression became half-devious and half-gleeful.

"Oh, ho! Someone's a happy lover boy. Who could it be, who could it be from, hm? Well, c'mon; take it-_bai_!"

"Th-Thank you," I breathed bashfully, feeling my age in a rare change.

"Ah! Not yet, not yet! You mustn't open a Valentine in front of another girl, Mister Blue," she slapped my wandering hands away with a mitten clad hand, before they could have their way. "It's rude, you know-_bai_?"

"Er...s-sorry."

"_Achaaa_! So cute, so blue-_bai_! Kobato's decided: Mister Blue shall be the special love of a Kobato Valentine!"

I did not even have a chance to protest before she gave a dexterous flick of her wrist, and a compact white and red, ribbon clad, heart-shaped box (with little cat ears and a tail) slipped out onto her waiting palm.

"_Jaaaaaaannn_! Congratulations!"

I was not about to turn her down. Once a gift was given, one did not have much choice but to accept. On the bright side, it was not a life or death situation where I knew I was being handed a bomb or WMD that was going to detonate, resulting in a quick and hopefully painless horrible death.

Frankly, I was too overwhelmed to even consider refusing her in the first place, "...erm...t-thank you."

"Sweet Valentines-_bai_! And be sure to be sweet on White Day too, or Lord Valentine will sick the Grue on you!"

Huh? White Day? What's White Day?

She lit out with a giggle and darted away, before I could question her otherwise. I had the sinking feeling I had something more important to worry about now. Perhaps, Mother's letter will give me a hint?

"To My Dearest Little Darling,

Goodness to Mystra, I didn't think this time of year would ever come again. It's unbelievable to think its been nine months since you..." the following in-between was illegible due to rather _violent_ scribbling "...left home. I know, I know; really, we haven't lost anytime, besides those three months you were at Dilos Island, and since then, we can sort of talk once a month through HoloNet mail, but it's..." the ink drifted off aimlessly for several lines, before legible writing resurged once more "...not the same. Mommy knows she's being selfish but you're just so far away, when before you were always there for me to come home to, even though..."

Again, there was violent scribbling. I was beginning to lose heart quickly to read more. Even though we communicated regularly through the e-mails, it seemed there were still things Mother would only speak of, in writing, to me. The impression of "Her" she had given me was gravely different the "She" I was meeting now. Oh Mystra, what else had she not told me? What else that she could only speak freely to me in person?

Suddenly, my personal battle here for Atlas, The Giant's Pit felt miniscule and infinitesimally petty, a chastising shock to my ego. Home was where I needed to be; someone --- special to me, my most important person was waiting for me to come home. If I had to go through a Wookie, a haughty Noble, and a whole council of blackhearts, so be it, and let them all suffer my wrath.

_Frak_, I should never have gotten involved in this stupid battle in the first place! I thought to myself with a snarl. Why, oh, why did I allow myself to be baited so? To be tricked? And now, I am a prisoner of my own ambition, the Fool's fool.

Shamed, I forced myself to read on:

"...Oh, I am so sorry! I shouldn't be so spoiled and bratty, like Mom teases me; even that Letti showed up the other day to drag me out of the house. You'll be home in a month and a few days, and I'll have plenty of time to dote on you..." the rows of girlish hearts struck my foul mood --- my soul! --- like lightning to a tree, detonating the construct to a spectacle of flame and shrapnel. Was this an ill omen of things to come?

"Now, I know you are growing boy, maybe a little too young to appreciate the day, but Mommy didn't want you to feel left out or bullied by other boys, so Mom and I put this little Valentine together for you! Milk. Dark. Couverture. White. Fudge. Packed with mints, crème, nuts, caramel, truffles, and other goodies. I think we almost destroyed the kitchen over twice, but it's too good to resist! A woman, sophisticated or practical, takes pride in being able to cook; after all, never underestimate good sense to find your way to a man's heart."

...what?

"Ah-ah! but don't go boasting to the boys now. You weren't the only one I gave a Valentine to..."

WHAT!

"He's such a sweet boy that Tetsuya, don't you think so? I wonder, if I should take up his offer to transfer in as the new Taskforce Executive Officer, since his unit's Captain will be leaving in the first week of Maia? I feel that Mom and Father are right about me: I need to get out of the house and get my feet wet again, instead of sulking at home behind a desk. Not to mention, I'm a little worried that Letti may have set her sight on poor, sweet Tetsuya. Mystra forbid, she takes the position just to be closer to him. Honestly, the nerve of that hotheaded girl; ever since we were children she has played '_games_' like this with me, over everything and nothing at all. It's not like I asked to be born as her one and only rival!"

Oh dear, oh dear...

"Oh my, I didn't mean to go off on a tangent like that, dearest. Anyways, I know you'll be busy with finals next month, so you don't have to return the favor to Mom and I for White Day, though the Grue might come out to get you, if you don't..."

Oh dear...!

"..._Tee hee hee_, I'm just teasing you, Chrono. I don't think the Grue would want to eat you. Indigestion, you know? You'll tear your way out of his guts, with Grue Chocolate to give to someone special... Oh! How about that Corellian girl, Ryuune Zoldark? I know, I know; you told me she was one hell of a tomboy and thumped you silly, but I think even the girl-at-heart inside her, hiding behind that tough as nails personality, would get a little weak-kneed at something so R-O-M-A-N-T-I-C."

Hearts! Hearts! Dammit, why? Is this some kind of divine encouragement for me to put my relationship with the Corellian hellcat back to rights? I already intended to do so, thank you!

"Well, I think that's enough small talk. We'll talk more when you come home, my little darling.

All my love,

Lindy."

I felt exhausted, burned out to ash, as if I had just marched three days and four nights straight. It was single-handedly the most devastating letter I had ever received in my short life of six cycles forty-something odd days, some brutal hours, boorish minutes, and minute seconds. Masculine tears and snot streamed down my face in a helpless expression of "XXX! Why me?" because this development changed --- EVERYTHING.

"I need to go home."

I'm not ready for Mom to be DATING and informing me I have a new DADDY!

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.13 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. Yeah, this was a little late; I had it done in time for Valentine's Day to be honest. ...Seriously! But yeah, editting and quality checking took some extra time. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter nevertheless. Got some good laughs here. Character development. An inside joke (come on, it shouldn't be that hard to guess who Kobato really is). And enough WAFF to make the Grinch happy.

Hope you all looking forward to White Day and the explosive showdown, before I start kicking things in high gear, so we can get to Year 3, Graduation Exam. Then it is on to Flight School, kicking it with Aria, fast forward some more, and the Year 6, Graduation Exam. Get through that, and Space School! almost there! Man, we got a long year ahead of us, but we'll get there, folks. It's an Epic; these things take time.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	14. Entry 1 14: UnLucky White

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.14:

The Un-Lucky White?

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

The following days and weeks flew by a flurry of preparations, training, and several failed culinary experiments, which lead to much mockery and laughter on Nagi Dai Artai's part, till I decided to shut him up with burnt fondue. His hilarity was impaired greatly, afterwards, I assure you. Though I am impressed that between Mother and Grandmother they only managed to almost burn down the kitchens twice creating a Valentine for me; I have already burned my own easily twenty times, trying to match the opulence of their gift.

Thankfully, there was still plenty of white chocolate to go around, and more to be had at the commissary, if necessary. I could only pray my wallet will survive another encounter. Today, was the first Sunday of the month, and I roughly two weeks left before White Day was upon me, with an additional two weeks thereafter for the advent of the full moon.

I was short on time but I was not particular worried, surprisingly enough. I felt at peace just sitting there, face down at the dining table, clad in an apron and some spare casual clothes, caked in baking powder and white-burnt smudges of my latest culinary catastrophe. Who would have thought making Angel Cake, would be so difficult? Then again, I did stray from the recipe some, trying to add my own touches and the like; hence, the latest burnt pan and "ugly" mess in the kitchen behind me.

Two good reasons: I was much more concerned with the latest developments at home, and...

Abruptly, my dorm room's "Housekeeper OS" spoke up through the intercom (another convenience afforded to Platinums), interrupting my thoughts with a respectful feminine voice, "Incoming long-distance call, HoloNet traffic. Caller ID: Tetsuya Onodera. Will you take the call, Sir?"

"_Speak o' the Devil an' He Doth Appear_," I murmured, affecting the same unsavory snobbish tones of High Gothic that Nagi Dai Artai does so love to flaunt on occasion. I for one had no taste in the tongue, even if it was part of my education before my enlistment. "Put him through, please."

My genial response even surprised myself, granted it was not as if I disliked the man. _Frak_, if I did dislike him, I would still have had the maturity to at least address him with due respect; however, if I did hate him and considered him my enemy, why, I would make it clear as daylight. Of course, if it was political suicide to do so, I may have to reconsider, as it is all too likely my personal battle will drag others into the ensuing maelstrom.

"Ah, Chrono; good morn...ing?" came the Lieutenant-Commander's cordial greeting, as his holographic image phased into existed standing across the dining table from me. Of course, I noticed his minuscule hesitation, when my own image was no doubt appearing back at his residence in Cranagan, but I was in for my own little shock when the resolution of his form stabilized and sharpened.

It was laughable and oddly bizarre how we were mutually in the same state of, well, disaster: an apron, casual clothes, dark smudges of something or other, and a healthy dose of baking powder and cake flour. I believe he managed to best me slightly in the comical department by have a creamy white mustache of chocolate clearly plastered from his upper lip to his cheeks. Curious; I would like to know how he managed that little decoration.

I coughed gently to break the awkward pause, "Good morning, Sir."

"Oh, er, good morning... Excuse me, but why are you-?"

"White Day is coming up, _Sir_," I explained with a patronizing catch.

"Chrono-kun, please, it's Sunday and I'm at home right now," Tetsuya told me firmly; my little childish barb seemed to be the shock he needed to wrestle control of his faculties back into his command.

Now, it was my turn to color with embarrassment, "Um, y-yes, Tetsuya-san."

I can scarcely believe I did such a damnable thing in front of him!

"Alright, I consider myself a fairly good judge of character, for a number reasons you can probably figure for yourself, and I think it doesn't take a Kill Hat to figure out you've got a problem with me. So, with that said, what's the matter, son?"

I think he meant the last term in a kind of platonic "Male Bonding" fashion, but after recent revelations, that word alone packed the massive kinetic force of a roundhouse punch from the Wookie, Czerbahzacca. In other words, I fell out of my chair with a shocked expression, temporarily disappearing out of Tetsuya's field of view. I was excruciatingly happy that Nagi Dai Artai was not home that morning to witness my "flipping out", so goes the common expression.

"Chrono? Chrono! Are you okay?" the Lieutenant-Commander asked me, understandably alarmed by my sudden "disappearance".

"Y-Yes, Sir! One-Hundred percent, Sir!" I scrambled, flipping my chair upright, and seating myself once more. It was impossible to hide my flaring red complexion, to say the least. My composure was blown, and judging by his scrutiny, Tetsuya was putting a number of theories together already to explain my behavior.

And Mystra damn me, he actually deduced the correct one as his eyes bugged out and his face colored to match my own. I swear, the Goddess of Mysteries delights in the turmoil of us common men, when we come to realize our mutual folly over our women. "Chr-Chrono-kun, did you happen to get a Valentine from -- _the Captain_?"

"And I -- presume you received one from Mother as well?" I added. His last utterance was said in a hushed tone, so that my ears could barely catch it, though I had no need to hear it for the bashful wandering of his eyes, and the fidget of his shoulders was all I need to know.

"Er, well-! Yes. And... Um... I received _another_, as well."

"..._Another_, you say, Tetsuya-_san_?"

"Erm, are you familiar with Captain Leti Lowran?"

"Somewhat," I racked my memories for some clues to attach to the name, "violet hair, serious eyes, glasses, and a ponytail -- that Captain Leti Lowran? Has a habit of posing imperiously as she gives a haughty laugh?"

"Yes, and err, her delivery method was most -- _unusual_."

"That is?"

The older man man sweated, "She kicked down the door to my office, had a pair of her clone marines repel down through the windows, and had another pair backing her up. All of them were armed with stun guns and Valentines. In contrast, the Captain was much more conventional, though I don't understand why she would pick a Horror movie to present a Valentine at. Last minute nerves? She was rather traumatized after the ordeal of _The Calamity Ville Horror_ was over."

If I had known then of the things to come, I would have been more sympathetic to the Lieutenant-Commander at the time. Alas, in my youth, I thought such things were an abuse of one's rank, never mind it was possible to justify such a trivial thing as an "urban training" exercise. Then again, such a revelation at the time also altered my perception of him quite radically.

"Tetsuya-san, if I may ask, what _KIND _of Valentines did you receive?" I asked in scathing tones, causing the brown-haired man to redden visibly.

"M-Must I, Chrono-kun?"

"I presume, you called me for advice, so it is only fair, no?"

"The _sweetheart _kind, only."

_KRAK_-**THUD**.

Again, I fell out of my chair, a stupefied expression on my face. Yes, I had an inkling for Mother's affections but to so boldly go forth with an "indirect" confession of her interest to the...! _Argh_! Yes, I realize in another few months time, it will be the first anniversary for the funeral of -- _That Man_... _Ugh_, still for a man to receive two Valentines, both of the sweetheart kind, was that not unusual?

"_Mattaku_, I feel like a boy again," I heard Mister Onodera laughing, as I hauled myself up, setting my chair back to rest to take a seat once more. I must have positively been glowering then. "Why, it feels like it has been years since something like this happened to me."

"_Years_, Tetsuya-san?"

"My cadet days, specifically. Once I graduated and was thrown into the thick of the Clone Wars, we were all too busy for this sort of thing. Hmm, I suppose, some people were able to make time for it, nevertheless. I was more concerned how we were going to survive the next day and kick the Confederates off another system. _Ah_, yes; those were the days, simpler times... At least then, I did not feel like a pawn play acting to _His_ game."

"_His_ game?" I asked, my curiosity peaked by the sudden darkening of Tetsuya's voice. Even my immediate outrage was set aside in face of such intrigue.

"Even in **death**, we are still dancing to his tune."

...What!

The Lieutenant Commander laughed lightly, running hand through his troubled curly hair, "Oh my, I think I have said too much. I was never good at controlling myself when it came to the subject of -- You-Know-Who."

"W-Wait a minute, what is this-?"

"I have sworn an oath and cannot break it, at least you cannot know until you have become a _Man_, Chrono Harlaown."

There was little I could do to hold back my infuriated scowl.

"Ah, _that_ face, I make it all too often. But, I suppose, it is not all bad, right? To be able to find **Love **is not an easy thing, after all. Harder yet, to rediscover love that you thought was lost to you."

Now, it was my turn to flush red in embarrassment, as my palm rose instinctively for a tactical "facepalm".

"...you...don't say..."

"S-Sorry, Chrono-kun, I am rather inept in the affairs of Cupid and Valentine. Please, bear with me, as I try to sort my feelings and, well, _other_ things out. I never really got the chance to be a boy, you know."

"And why I should play accomplice to you?" I seethed sarcastically, glaring dead eyed at the sheepish, pleading face of the "man-child" across from me.

"Considering it concerns yourself and Captain Harlaown, whether I learn to play right or wrong is quite important, don't you think so, young man?"

"You realize, you are asking for advice from a six-cycle-old cadet."

"According to my old Master, '_In Mid-Childa_, _it never hurts to start young_!'. You are on the frontlines, Chrono-kun! Help an old boy learn a thing or two, won't you?"

I sighed. I could not believe I was about to concede to such a thing...

"Very well, then I guess, we are partners in crime, Tetsuya-san. But understand, I am only doing this to ensure Mother has a good time with you, _**not **_for you to **romance **her and become my future **father**; in fact, I will have your **balls **_**roasting **_on a _grill _if I find myself with a _new _little brother or sister on the way, are we clear?"

"C-_Crystal_."

Satisfied with his answer, that he was taking me seriously, I still could not help but offer one last sigh:

"And first thing tomorrow, I want you to go down to the Family Health Clinic on your base, get a refresher course on Family Planning, memorize all the contraceptive spells available, and take some contraception with you."

The absurd silence was palpable.

"WHAT!"

"It will be a long **eight **years before I graduate, Sir. I hope you are prepared for the long haul."

I almost pity the poor man, but ah, if I only knew what was to become of myself, I would have been much more sympathetic.

* * *

The days rolled by, and soon enough it was Friday, Martius the 14th, T.C. 4654: sunny, calm, a warm day by local standards. To the best of my abilities, things were more or less going as planned once more, as I was making astounding progress, at least according to Lieutenant Lieze. In fact, I felt was starting to catch up with the ever spry and skilled Ryuune Zoldark too; the gulf in proficiency between us was still huge, but I had managed to give her a few wake up calls in the ring, which she responded with rather unpleasant ferocity.

Now, if only I could do something about our presently -- estranged relationship...

On another good note, Nagi Dai Artai anticipated my need to get more hands-on training with the two weapon devices he had lent to me for my coming bout, so he found a secluded location, safe prying eyes and ears. I have no idea how he found this space, or how to get their myself, and I would rather not know. Some things are better left unasked when it comes to the dealings of The Fool.

As for how I actually trained, Nagi happily supplied me with several Marksman-H combat "training" remotes and a modified ASP-19, wielding practice electroknuckles. Between being hounded by the training remotes' non-lethal blasters and beset by the ASP-19 combat trainer droid, my skills were sorely put to the test. I was no Jedi and it did not help the droid had a kind of bombastic personality, always taunting me with a "Come hither" gesticulation every time I was knocked down or winded severely. Fortunately, my brain could still react faster than my body, and the same connection held true through the Magi Link to the weapon devices.

I had reached a level where I could instinctively shield myself from the opportunistic attacks from the remotes, using the Power Belt's abilities. In fact, I was learning quite a few new tricks with it too: aside from enhancing my strikes, I could use the belt to "cheat" as well. I was nowhere near strong enough to lift the ASP-19 but by coordinating the bursts of "power" correctly, I could perform otherwise impossible throws. The same is applied to other physical feats such as "super dashes", like I had seen the Wookie perform.

Also, I had familiarized myself more with the slash saber. Just as I postulated, I could control the lethal "edge" of the "blades" at will, a reflection of my will. Dull, solid blue blades were not useful for thrusting or slashing but they gave me a non-lethal option and transformed the device into an oversized mace. Blazing blades of raw plasma was the purest offensive form available, and I imagine could cut through just about anything. Of course, it takes superb concentration to control the slash saber, and I am still having difficulty keeping the blades consistent in the heat of battle.

My sword forms, though, are still extremely amateurish...but it cannot be helped, considering it took Grandfather decades to become a master, I am not about to overtake him in just a few weeks.

Still, there is one other piece of good news: "Overskill". A special, unique "Magic Born from the Heart" -- that is inherent to each and every Weapon Device, for no two devices possess the same skill. Of course, it is not merely a novelty that adds to the "charm" of the device. Unlike most spells casted from Storage or Intelligent Devices, an overskill has no casting time and can be casted at will, with just a thought, no actual incantation necessary. The downside is that depending on the "magic" the mana consumption and the spell's effects vary spectacularly, a possibly dangerous gamble that can leave the user defenseless afterwards, though rumor has it that the quality of an overskill is a measure of a mage's ability.

Why would Weapon Devices possess such a "gamble" in the first place, the reason for has long been lost. Some say it has something to do with their schematics or the manufacturing process, but the existence of "Overskill" is undocumented largely by companies. In fact, even "Over-Maniacs" (a term for enthusiasts) profess there should be no room for the "magic" to exist, as stock-made Weapon Devices lack any kind of storage capacity.

How one actually goes about awakening an overskill was another mystery all together. The most common "method", according to the over-maniacs, is in the heat of battle; most "beautiful" and "powerful" overskills are discovered in such a fashion. Suffice to say, I am not betting on my loaned Weapon Devices just "waking up" during my big fight, as I would rather not rely on luck to pull my guts out of the fire.

Though... I am concerned that very likely Czerbahzacca has one. What else could Illyasviel von Einzbern have been meaning to use?

Ugh, what's the use in worrying? I berated myself then, as class ended and we were all dismissed for the day.

Today was only a half day in observance of White Day. Why did we only get half the day off? Well, it is tradition that men only need half the time to accomplish the tenets as set forth by Lord Valentine, then again, I suppose He favors the "fairer sex" naturally and we got the short end of the stick by default.

In any case, I was prepared and strode forth with confidence! ...well, as much confidence as I could muster, slipping away from the stampede of boys and young men rushing to find the objects of their affection.

My White Day was already well underway since this morning, though I have no idea when Mother will actually open it. Instead of trying to best her creation, I settled finally on simply being myself: two large hearts, one for Grandmother and the other for Mother, with a succinct postcard addressed to her. Both were white chocolate covertures (blueberry filling for Grandmother and strawberries for Mother) tempered to a fifth level polymorphous crystallization, producing a chocolate that is glossy, firm, and melts near body temperature.

The postcard read simply:

"Mom,

I will be home soon, I promise.

Love,

Chrono."

Why "Mom" instead of "Mother"? Well, it is a question of intimacy and affection. Mother always did commiserate that I was such an "uncute" and "formal" boy, and so, she would do just about anything to have me call her "Mom" rather than the more respectful "Mother". Eventually, it became something of a code word to us, though its exact meaning was entirely contextual being anywhere from endearment to an apology for making an unreasonable request.

Nevertheless, I did not envy Lieutenant Commander Tetsuya Onodera's job today. He had two women to deliver a White Day's gift to: one being Mother and the other her self-styled, hotheaded rival, Captain Leti Lowran. Come to think of it... Was not Countess Lowran a widow as well? I recall, vaguely, a funeral for her late husband just a year before...

Oh dear, now I really do not envy him! The children's movie, "_The Squirrel and the Bear_", seemed like a good idea for Mother in light of her harrowing experience just the month prior, but taking Captain Lowran out to a paintball combat range for night shooting might have been too good of a suggestion on my part. Yes, his culinary skills were much more limited than my own; however, with the benefit of my selected venues and timing, and his own charm, today might well turn out in his favor whether he likes it or not.

"Well, Mystra favor him and _bless_ him an interesting time," I murmured morosely, as I stood in the heated halls of one particular administrative building.

Friday as it turns out was also a certain someone's office hours, granted I was not looking for her in particular but someone who could possibly be related to that girl from a month ago. Thing is, I imagine that girl did not give me her real name, and as much as I inquired on my prior at the post office, I could not find the temporary part-timer, Kobato. She did give me a Valentine so I was obligated naturally to return the favor to the best of my ability, which was why I found myself standing outside Lieutenant Lotte Lieze's office.

Judging by the wallowing cries of misery, mountains of paperwork, so I thought, was murdering her slowly. I had been here once before, and she too had been buried under a mountain of the horrible papers. Alas, my fortitude was lacking at the time, so she easily guilt me into helping her "banish" the pile back into filed and signed order for an entire evening. The lieutenant offered to take me out to dinner but I took a "raincheck", so the laymen expression goes, for a favor.

I can only pray I can find some out of her clutches before the day is over, as I do have one other delivery to make besides this one, producing a white heart-shaped packaged tied by a blue ribbon from my school bag. It was a sizeable thing, comparable to a laptop, which easily dwarfed what Kobato had given me but I felt she deserved it. She had been responsible for delivering Mother's Valentine, after all.

Normally, I realize knocking would have been the socially acceptable thing to do, but I felt Lieutenant Lieze could use the surprise, a break from the monotony, so I let myself in:

"Good afternoon, Lieu-UOFFfff!"

As soon as the door was open, papers exploded into the air, dazzling my eyes with movement, a most clever distraction for I never noticed the wailing blur that came and bodily bowled me over. Two thoughts struck me then: if this was combat, I could be dead had a vibroknife wormed its way through my Barrier Jacket, which was not difficult against most Cloth-type designs. Secondly, I need to stop being taken by surprise.

"Chrooooooo-suuuuuuuu-keeeeee!" a familiar feminine mewling assaulted me but I instantly noticed something wrong. Ignoring the pain to crane my head over the rim of my coat, the answer to the mystery came to me blatantly obvious, as my expression gaped in open astonishment.

"M-Miss Ko-Kobato?!"

"Hyah?"

If memory serves me right, it was the spitting image of her, no mistake: a younger version, a little sister of Lieutenant Lotte Lieze. The question is why was she wearing the lieutenant's characteristic uniform, which apparently was a few sizes too big for her, as if Miss Lieze had suddenly -- shrunk? ...and then at last, epiphany struck me as my White Day gift came back to haunt my face, courtesy of gravity.

"Doh!"

Now, it makes perfect sense.

"Ch-Chrosuke, ar-are you okay-_nyan_?"

"_Nyan_ or _Bai_, I think both are fine," I grumbled aloud, commiserating the "unpleasant?" added weight upon my body that was making breathing difficult.

"B-_Bai_? N-_Nyan_? Wh-what are you talking about-_bai_?" Lotte was obviously playing dumb. The stutter in her babbling defense was not helping at all, as I nudged the package off my face with a turn of my head.

"Nevertheless, I can respect your thoughtfulness in assuming a younger form, so that you'd be less recognizable. It would have been socially awkward for a teacher to give a Valentine to one of her students."

"Wh-what do you mean? I-I didn't -- never did anything on Valentine's...!"

"Oh, hush, woman, and get off me already. I am still too young to be used as a snuggling _hubby_ (or so I think the expression goes). I will be a soldier some day but even then I intend to be a gentleman to the best of my ability, so can you please, ahem, _grow up_ to your normal size? Your uniform appears to be on the verge of revealing skin and that would lead to questions if someone were to pass by, right now, yes? Also, the package is for you."

It was the first time I had ever seen Lotte Lieze completely bewildered, her mind performing aerial cartwheels after being shot out of a cannon some light years elsewhere, but at least her body still had the sense to comply. With a dumbfound expression, she obeyed and stood, her body shimmering briefly with small magical circles and runes, transforming the "cat girl" back to a "cat woman" -- no pun intended. I was more impressed by the magical transformation, a "Glamour-type" spell I think; the fact she could cast it so quickly, efficiently, and intriguingly, without an incantation was genius.

Indeed, I looked forwards to studying magic with her, beyond my present apprenticeship in just the art of combat. Quickly, I ushered us both into her presently disorderly office, making sure to retrieve my belongings, her White Day gift, and close the door behind us. I hoped no one had seen the spectacle because if someone that could lead to some unfortunate, which I would rather not deal with.

In any case, I settled Lotte Lieze into her chair behind the bureau, setting her White Day gift into her lap, before I pounced upon the "heroic" task of tidying the place up. What passed for controlled chaos on her part simply would not do for me; call me a "Neat Freak", if you wish, but I simply think it a side effect of militarized education. Then again, cleaning and ordering things -- running through the motions, as they call it -- always did have a kind of soothing effect on me, particularly in awkward situations, like now.

It was Lotte, you see. I was waiting for her to respond with -- something -- anything! Yes, I admit I was a little heavy handed a moment ago, but I was not expecting to have to play the denial game with her. She, obviously, has a great deal of affection for me so I figured she would laugh it up at being caught and tease me some for my unremarkable deductive skills, as I should have known last month. Besides, it would be rude of me to leave without her permission, even though I had more important stop to make before turning in early for the day to study for finals.

Fortunately, they would be finished during the week of my coming fight, so I could do battle free of worries on Saturday the 29th, in fifteen days from now.

"_Ne_, aren't -- aren't you angry, Chrosuke?" Lotte spoke up in a sullen voice, as I finished restacking the papers at last.

I shot a curious glance at her, though it might not have been the best choice, causing the young woman to "eep!" uncharacteristically, her ears flattening, as she squirmed in place. It was almost laughable but cute suited the occasion, much better.

"No. Should I be?"

"_Hyan_! M-Meanie!"

"...Me?"

"Didn't your mother teach you it's not nice to tease grown ups-_nyan_!"

"Yes and no," I deadpanned.

"_Hyan_! So quickly he said it!" Lotte burst into an exaggerated shower of tears, hugging my White Day gift just a little closer to her. "This isn't a butt-in! smarty breaches! and idiot comedy routine, _uruuuuuuuuuu_..."

"But I am not angry, and you did cheer me up in your own way, so I do not mind that you deceived me. I should have noticed but again no harm done."

"You little _softie_..."

"_Hmmm_, is that unacceptable? Oh! I hope you don't mind crispy rice and caramel filling; I thought it would suit her, well, _your _personality."

I think it was the first I had ever seen the lieutenant blush, as she mewled in abashed protest, "_Nyan_, you devil; you! I am falling in love all over again."

"I fear, you are about to inform me that this was the first time you ever received..." I gulped, "...a White Day gift from a male."

"Of course, silly! Do I look like the type to go play around with boys-_nyan_?"

You could have fooled me.

"Hey! What's with that stiff look, Chrosuke?"

"I am surprised you are not swamped with admirers today."

"Oh, them? They're probably dropping their White Day stuff off in my mailbox."

"...How many?" I asked, feeling a touch incensed all of a sudden. Was I jealous?

As if reading my mind, Lotte grinned toothily, her eyes flashing with mischief. I did little to resist, not because it was futile but I refused to show any weakness, as she enveloped me affectionately into a embrace from behind, like a leopardess draping herself on a tree. Of course, it was not as if there was a blazing high noon sun to escape from, much less a savannah.

"_Nyaaan_, you're jealous, aren't you, Chro-su-ke?"

It was a most confounding, condemning accusation to throw at a boy only six cycles and some months old. Perhaps, it was especially true for a boy of my extraordinary circumstances at the time, but I bared it as best as I could in a somewhat morose tone, "Maybe... But I wouldn't know what I feel, truly. I am only six cycles old, after all."

"_Fu fu fu_, but y'know..."

Was she purring?!

"...you're the only one Lotte is interested in," the lieutenant giggled, her tail swishing happily back and forth. "All those other males are such boys. But you're different; you came to Lotte first and gave her such a big chocolate that you made all by yourself, you little devil!"

"Ah..._hmm_."

"_Ne_, Chrosuke, what kind of girl do you like?"

Valiantly, I had been resisting any sense of bashful embarrassment, despite the flaring hot blush on my cheeks. Lotte's inquiry effectively destroyed that resolve, with the brutal efficiency of a turbolaser bolt vaporizing a speeder tank into a ball of flame and shrapnel. Alas, my sudden distress opened a crack in my resolve, wide enough to serve as impetus for the other "me" to slip through of his volition, while I was too dumbfounded to do anything else.

"Well, I think I'm still too young to give a definite answer," _he _replied in a proud, strong voice, as if such a question was no less important than where _he _would dine in the fortnight, "but I can say this much: I don't dislike a girl like _you_, Lotte Lieze."

The effect was all too immediate...

"_Hyan_! Oh, Chrosuke, you sweet devil! Lotte wants to take you home!"

"Argh! _Claws_! Woman! Ow! _Fangs_! Gyah!"

* * *

By some miracle, I managed to "escape" from the Lieutenant's office with most of my pride, intact. One of these days, I was going to figure out a foolproof method for escaping from the clutches of "affectionately loving" females, not because I dislike the attention mind you. ...well, explaining myself to Lotte would have been awkward, that is I could not spend time with her because I had to go elsewhere to repair my relationship with another "woman"? I might be only six cycles old, but even I have the sense to realize that you do not tell a woman, such delicate information so trivially.

...argh, never mind it is complicated. Anyways, I was able to slip away, a sheepish apology at my lips, once her sense of duty reasserted itself, forcing her to attack the indomitable pile of papers. Procrastination can only delay the inevitable, after all, though from the teary look she shot me, it was obvious she wanted to keep me the whole day if possible. I profess I was quite quick to flee, after that look.

The shining gaze of the sun was a welcome relief, affirming that I taken one more step in the right direction. Though, how I was to go about accomplishing my last "miracle" for the day I had no clue for my carefully laid schemes were forgotten in the experience with the lieutenant. So, feeling a touch dumb, I decided to take a stroll to clear my head.

Unlike the spectacular celebration that was Valentine's, White Day was a much more "formal" affair, though the more appropriate phrase would be, methinks, "a battle for survival". I had never seen so many boys and young men in tears simultaneously: some in relief, some in happiness, and others in despair. They trooped around streets and boulevards in buddy teams of two, a squad of five, the odd lone wolf, and on occasion, a whole platoon of them, double timing together in a macho show of camaraderie, in spite of their collective rejection by the "eye" of their affections. More disturbing, perhaps, I even spotted several of the females in similar states of heartbroken mania, as they were hurried away by their friends to the safety of privacy, and from possibly disdainful, prying eyes.

I never would have fathomed "Love" could cut both ways.

On the other hand, the amorous lovers were positively "stinking" up every possible venue they could find on base, be it movie theaters, cafes, the mall, or any other "quiet, romantic" spot they could imagine so. Some of the more risqué displays of affection I stumbled across with my ever observant eyes, understandably, left me beating a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. Honestly, could they not reserve such things for the comforts of privacy rather doing it right out in the open? I am trying to preserve my innocence here, thank you! Yes, it does not hurt to start young in Mid-Childa, but...!

...never mind.

After that experience, my common sense kicked in, told me that I was being _di_'_kut_ and I should just call Ryuune Zoldark. We are in the age of technological marvels and fantastic advances that virtually bridges the gap between the stars in an instant! Honestly, why else would telecommunications have been invented for? And so I procured my PDA from my satchel, firing up its cellular phone function...

_Thud_!

It was hard to say what I reacted to first, the feminine "eep!" or the jarring impact from suddenly colliding with another body. In any case, I managed to maintain my balance and bodily control, stepping in for a lunge, my left arm snaking around the small of her back and pulling her close, rocking her center of mass in my favor. I think anyone would have called the feat admirable, considering I avoided causing undue harm to the girl in question, and I did not damage my PDA by dropping it on the sidewalk. Granted, I over did it a little and ended up burying my face into her coat, knocking both of our covers off.

"Gyah! You laser-brained frackbag, watch where-"

My damsel in distress, apparently, had an opinion of the contrary.

"HEY! Get your face off me, PERV!"

Honestly, she did not have to yank at my hair, but it certainly worked, wrenching my head back with a seething hiss of pain evident on my face. The pain, though, was quickly forgotten when I laid eyes on the girl: **pink **hair, just a little past her shoulders, ornamented with a pair of reddish "+'s" for the bangs the framed her cheeks. I was stunned I never seen anyone with pink hair before; it was such a vivid shade -- a pink rose? cherry blossom? -- and it was so beautiful and lustrous, I thought, just like silk, like Mother's... ...Pink! Uh, oh, and there was her rich amber hued eyes, scintillating with emotion.

She was -- she was very pretty, even with that outraged expression... Wait, glasses? Those glasses...I feel like I have seen them somewhere... Come to think of it, she is about my age, two heads taller than me... That rough speech just now... Could it be?!

"R-Ryuune Z-Zol-dark?" I breathed in wide-eyed, stupefied awe.

The transformation was instant: rose colored her cheeks, and her appearance "flickered" for a moment, pink to blonde, and amber to blue. Of course, I had no chance to say much else, when her forehead promptly crashed into mine, a headbutt; the spike of pain distracting me, as a brief vertigo took over. Air was forced out of my lungs from a shoulder ramming into my gut, making my vision blink, and the next thing I knew I was being "kidnapped" in broad daylight, much to the bewilderment of all eyes watching the spectacle. After all, it is not every day you see a girl clock out a boy, throw him over onto her shoulder like some throwback to the "prehistoric" days, grab their fallen covers, and haul jets as if an F.A.E. (Fuel Air Explosive) airstrike was coming in.

I have to admit, if I was wounded and in need of being hauled from a battlezone ASAP, I would gladly put my life in Ryuune Zoldark's capable hands. That girl could run: she wove like a needle through pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk with ease, the buildings passing right by us, and before I knew it were several blocks away from where he met. She made a sharp turn, skidding a few strides but compensating for my added weight easily, before bounding up the steps (unhindered by her long pleated skirt, part of the female uniform, you see) and kicking open the waiting doors of the building with the grace of a veteran Clone Marine, well-versed in urban warfare.

_Thwack_!

"Sorry for the noise, Eee-Dee-Four!" she called in passing to the protocol droid receptionist at the checkout bureau, still moving at a brisk pace.

We were in the library -- the Aurum Library to be exact.

"A pleasure as always, ma'am," it obliged in reply, not the slightest bit perturbed by the circumstances.

Funny, so this sort of thing was an every day occurrence? I thought seeing a girl haul a boy over her shoulder like excess baggage would have sparked more of a react-

_Kra-_thud!

"Ow! Arrrghhh..." my protested the rough treatment of myself being tossed onto the deck. Fortunately, there was some carpeting here to soften the impact. Wait... Couches... Amiable fireplace... I was just here, what, four weeks ago?

My contemplations were cut short though, when the pink-haired girl bent down, grabbing a fistful of my lapels, and hauled me up to her face. Yes, she was pissed, her complexion red, nostrils flaring with a sharp intake of breath that reminded me of a furious magma sabertooth cat from the death worlds of the Golgotha System. The Glamour-type spell that maintained her guise was flickering wildly, the Activation mechanism, I presumed, linked somehow to her emotional state.

Granted, in my daze, I made another startling observation aloud (that I normally would not have said aloud otherwise):

"_Ugh_...it would not kill you to be gentle when the occasion calls for it, sweetheart, right? _Cute_, by and by, those hair ornaments you fancy, though if you plan to continue wearing them, I think, blue suits you much better when you are blonde. Brings out the spark in your eyes."

With one absurdly forward paragraph, rage was replaced with straight embarrassment. Ryuune flushed bright red to match her magick'd hair, metaphorical steam hissing out of her ears, as if she had blown a fuse or two. Tongue-tied and reeling, still she rallied valiantly to, well, I guess, defend her vanity(?):

"I-i-Idiot! Wh-Who the hell do you think I am? I'm-I'm... I-I don't kn-know wh-what you're talking about, y-you little blue jerk! I'm H-Hi-Hinamori, Amu Hinamori! N-Not this...Z-Zoldark girl, yeah!"

So she is playing dumb? Okay...I guess I can play along.

"Oh, is that so? Then, how do you know Ryuune Zoldark is a female?"

"_Di­_'_kut_! Of course, it's a girl's name!"

"You have been hiding all day, have you not? That's why you got the disguise on. Your fanclub is pretty persistent from what I have heard, but you should not look at it all bad. At least, you have more people who acknowledge you, and I do not think all of them would have shallow reasons for doing so."

"...! Wh-wha-?"

"Still, I applaud your efforts for coming up with this disguise, alas it is incomplete until you can assume your character, _Hi-ma_-_mori_-_san_."

"It's HI-NA-MORI, jackass!" she seethed, a vicious tic worming its way into the corner of her brow. "Do I look like I have FREE TIME to you?"

Apparently, I had succeeded quite well in pushing her buttons, though I assure you that was not my intention. Then again, with a girl like her, it does not take much to set Ryuune Zoldark off. Time to make some amends then, since I do have her attention:

"But you will in about...oh, two weeks, and a day from now. The school year will be over and we will be on academic break until the school opening ceremony on Aprilis the Seventh, which gives us a week off, no?"

"Oh, really now, Captain Obvious?"

"And I want you to come home with me. I know, for a fact: Mother would adore you, Grandmother would be impressed to meet a woman-in-the-making like you, and Grandfather would be happy to teach you a thing or two about what it means to be a warrior."

It actually took a moment for my words to sink in. Understandably, it was a first for the both of us, and -- perhaps -- I may have been improvising on the spot, but, frankly, honestly, I did want her to come home with me. As much as her fanclub gave her something of a social circle now, and in a way they offered an added layer of protection from "darker elements", Ryuune Zoldark was still an "only man". I have never heard her say a word about herself or her family, and if the rumors are true, then she is, in fact, an orphan.

"...Rrrrrrr! Wh-Why would I...you!" her feral scowl did not match her eyes at all.

"Because, I think, no, I believe you are my friend, my very first friend. I do not know much about friends, what it means to be a friend, but you would not have done what you did a month and a half ago, if we were not friends. You would not have continued to train with me, either. I -- I have not been a good friend to you, so I... Well, I baked a White Day chocolate for you -- to apologize."

She was speechless, the forced anger draining from her pretty face altogether. In fact, even her "Glamour" dropped entirely, leaving Ryuune Zoldark standing there instead of her alter ego. Wonder where it was being generated from... Her glasses?

"It's in the sat-satchel," I mumbled, dropping my usual formal "correct" speech, as I felt rather bashful. Do not ask me how I could have felt sentimentally boyish at all, while a girl who could easily clobber to doom, held me up by the lapels of my uniform. In fact, the Corellian had been doing it for a good six minutes now, and she still was showing no signs of tiring. Yes, she is **strong**, and to this very day, I still cannot best her in a competition of strength.

On a good day, she can even give Zafira a run for his money, and we are talking about a masterpiece _Belkan_-made _Teufelwolf_, patterned after the legendary _Cerberus_. If our records are reliable, those things were _magi_ killing machines, simply put. Of course, it takes a lot of effort on his part not to "cheat" and compete on a solely physical basis, without drawing on his inherit powers.

Anyways, I digress...

"Erm, I-I didn't know what flavor you liked so... I went with cinnamon frosting and a mint filling. _Spicy _and _Cool_, eh?"

At that point, Ryuune, more or less, did not know what to do with me; the emotions I saw flickering across those prisms of blue spoke of many things. My stubbornness was finally paying off it seemed, however, though her mind was occupied, her body still moved instinctively -- to protect her(?). If I had taken some psychology back then, I might have understood why I found myself suspended at arm's length, an awesome feat of strength, while her other arm was cocked back into a familiar fist.

Dumbfounded, I could feel the acid claws of despair tear the heart from my courage. A scene like this had happened before, enough to qualify as many times, and every time I had come out worse as the loser. What should I do? What could I do? And in that moment of hesitation, the other "me" emerged once more:

"Before you hit me, how about we make a bet, eh?"

She stopped. "...a bet?"

"I ain't the same fella from when we first met, so how about this?" _he_ grinned toothily, eyes colored with a peculiar mixture of confidence and mischief. "If I can catch y'er punch, let's start over. Give US a chance, yeah? You and Me. Take the chocolates; the Kid spent hours makin' 'em for ya. And come home with me. You don't have to be alone."

Of course, Zoldark had no idea "who" she was talking to; neither did I for that matter. The answers would not become clear until many more "adventures" to come.

"I know, I know, I already said it before: I don't know what happened or who you were before we met, but when you're ready to tell me, I promise to listen before I do anythin' else, to hear ya out to the end. Heh-heh, I ain't no hero on a chariot. You and me? We're soldiers, born to fight; officers, made to lead; makin' the right call is the hardest choice we'll ever make. Hell, it's the only choice we got, yeah?"

"...and you're still going to fight those _chakaar_?" she eyed me, a queer lucid, clarity returning to those blue eyes.

"It's too late to back out, right? I didn't realize what was important to me until just a month ago. You. Mom. Grandma. Grandpa. My family, eh? And, 'course, folks important to me like Lieutenant Lieze."

"_**What**_, you've been _training _after hours with _That_ _Cat_-_Woman_, _Mir_'­_osik_!"

"Oh yeah! She's a pretty sweet cat, know what I say, _Mirdala_ _Dalal_'_ika_?"

"Oh, IT'S. **ON**, now!"

**CLAP**.

I could not believe it. Hell, it took both of my hands, one of which was bruising over right now, the pain sharp and numbing at the same time. In fact, I swore I could feel the flesh on the palm tingling too, as if it had been burnt. I did not have much time to consider the implications for I found myself dropped and swept, abruptly, into -- well, a swing. She was laughing delightfully and swinging me around like I was a puppy, a companion, given to her as a present.

"Ah-ha! Ah-ha! Ah haha ha haha! I-I won! Ahahahahahha! What a _gett_!"

"Girly, nutjob 'r' not, I caught your punch," the other "me" replied unruffled by the bizarre, though fortunate turn of events. I was rather overwhelmed by, well, everything. "Right cocked, half straight; your twelfth favorite."

"But I knew you would, you flaming genius!" she all but howled, manhandling me into a one-armed hug as the other hand wreaked havoc on my hair. "In that stance, what else was I supposed to use? You said a punch, not a headbutt or an elbow strike!"

It was enough of a shock to, apparently, send the other "me" packing home, his work done, leaving me to deal with a side of Ryuune Zoldark I did not even know existed:

"Ummm..."

"Hahahaha! Fine, you got me. And I'll tell you what: I don't have the slightest clue what it means to be friends, either! Us? We? Ha ha ha! We're the blind leading the blind."

"W-Well, they say two heads are better than one," I said shyly, finding my voice with some difficulty. "We ought to be able to understand each other."

The sound of applause, however, interrupted our moment of privacy. I was expecting her to drop me, like a child to a hot pan, but astonishingly, Ryuune Zoldark became possessive -- protective, drawing me close with a killing glare on her eyes. Only a fool, a brave fool, or someone supremely self-possessed would dare to challenge her at this point in time, which to my experience to come few ever did, and even fewer lived to tell the tale about it.

This man, in particular, was a _special _case.

"Wha...? Sh-sh-SHUU!" Ryuune colored, doing a wonderful impression of a goldfish, and dropping me flat out. To my credit, I had enough sense to steady my balance upon my feet touching terra firma once more, instead of pratfalling on my cargohold. This afternoon was turning more and more so into a day of firsts

The "gentleman" gave a faint smile, his intelligent eyes brimming with a hint of smugness, "My, my, that was quite touching actually."

He appeared to be in his twenties (though with us mages it is hard to tell how old one truly is, unless you ask, which is rather rude under normal circumstances), with longish, "wave-ish" (curly?) magenta hair, his bangs swept aside in a stylish fringe. Radiating an air of intellectual social propriety that beholden those in his presence, it was the sort of charisma that earned a respect due naturally out of obligation, from most people, as it would be rude and ignorant not to do so otherwise. The fact, he was dashingly handsome, well dressed, tall, and broad shouldered, despite his scholarly vocation (I assume that's what the half-lab coat, half-trench coat "heraldry coat" hinted at) only furthered the unspoken demand.

The Corellian girl, though, was not impressed, at least she was trying her best not to be charmed with a forced a snarl of disgust, "Urghhh! Jerk! Lecher! Wh-What are **you **doing here, Shirakawa-_san_?"

Shirakawa-san? Wait -- the "-san" honorific! Where did Zoldark learn that from?

"As your guardian, I felt I should make my presence known," he replied, not the slightest ruffled by her behavior, "as obligated by the occasion to give you a White Day present. You _are _my very special charge, Ryuu-_chan_."

"_Urrrghhh_! W-Well, hand it over and scram...wait, a second, HEY! How much did you hear?"

"Here you are, my dear. As to answer your query: everything, and yes, I give you my permission. And you may make the arrangements as needed, assuming this young fellow does whatever he..."

I knew, I should not have interrupted their conversation but I was intrigued. After all, I had confirmation that Zoldark was in fact an orphan, while simultaneously, I had received a startling revelation in the appearance of her guardian no less. I wanted to know more:

"Excuse me, Sir, but who are you exactly?"

"Ah, apologies. Where are my manners? I am Doctor Shuu Shirakawa, Ph.D., alumni from the Miskatonic University, several times over."

The Miskatonic University! Why, it is single-handedly the most prestigious institution of higher education and research on Mid-Childa, at least from a civilian point of view. If I had not enlisted, well, I probably would have shot for a chance at such a place.

"Presently, I am employed as a project leader at the Extra Over Technology Institute (E.O.T.I. for short) for a number of high profile -- _prospects_, and of course, I am the guardian of yours truly, Ryuune Zoldark. Why it feels just like yesterday when I met her..."

"_Shove _it, Shira-_baka_," she scowled, a dangerous edge in her tone. Clearly, we were on ground Ryuune did not wish to speak of, at least in front of me for now.

"Ah-ha ha ha, as you can observe, she is a diamond in the rough, but I think the _Arcana_ _of Judgment_ can teach her a thing or two how to behave like a lady, correct?"

Now, it was my turn to be stunned. The issue of the identities of those families involved with the _Majora Arcana_ was not something to be trifled with lightly. Yes, we were a republic, a democracy by all rights, but it does not change the fact that all the major political parties and the coalitions of Parliament are in some way financed and encouraged by _this _select, highest tier of our society. For Doctor Shirakawa to be aware would mean he is much more than meets the eye.

"Your late sire had quite a few dealings with **us **in the past, Young Harlaown. I wonder, if you shall continue his legacy, _nay_, I sense you will embark upon a new path altogether, and it is the Future and only the Future that shall be your epitaph. I look forward to your journey. Perhaps, E.O.T.I. and I shall prove ourselves valuable to you and the Future. _Hm_, the Future may it be glorious and beneficent to the Galaxy."

And just like that he left.

"Careful around Shuu," Ryuune warned me, an uncharacteristic softness in her voice, "_ack_, I mean -- Shira-_baka_! He's...! He's -- a dangerous one. That guy...is always moving on the surface, always something running underneath the surface."

I should have listened to her.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.14 in all of its glory; the longest chapter, and it is all about WHITE DAY. Approximately 8,900 words of character development and WAFF. Argh! And I thought Valentine's was bad. ...oh man, I just realized White Day in the distant future -- is going to be Armageddon. That's a LOT of "Obligation" and "Sweetheart" chocolate to go around. I really ought to master this romantic-comedy thing by then...wait a second, would not Valentine's be just as bad? ...right, but, hey! Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas.

'cause we got some foreshadowing and important literary what-nots going on here too. And, please, feel some sympathy for Chrono's wallet in the future, not to mention his sanity too.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Once more, thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

ONWARDS - TO THE BIG - FIGHT!

_Tsudzuku_!


	15. Entry 1 15: No Boy No Cry

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Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.15:

No Boy No Cry

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Flash!

"Lords and Ladies, Heroes and Blackhearts! WEL-COME, WEL-COME! Long, long, long! Too long, we have been away, but anon, anon, and at last we return to these hallowed grounds! Bathed and sworn upon the blood of resolve, ambition, passion, the blood of our ancestors! Welcome to the Stage of Pride!"

The presence of the sun, bright and blazing, in the clear azure sky was nothing short of disorienting. My body in protest registered it was well past drop dead time, midnight approaching fast of Martius the 29th, but here it was still sun up. Then again, with magic almost anything was possible, and for all I knew, Nagi Dai Artai could have teleported me half-way across Mid-Childa to where it was bright and early. When the appointed time had come to depart, he asked that I cooperate and be blindfolded, as I had yet to earn the privilege of "Sight", for the route to our destination was a closely guarded secret. I had no choice but to comply and then -- I fell.

When I "awoke" the blindfold was stripped from me, a sharp whip of cloth, and a flood of sensations flooded me. It is a difficult to describe but imagine yourself in the place of a newborn taking its first breath of air, gasping, gobbling air, body burning, straining, senses reaching out, a frightening event yet life changing struggle for to fail otherwise would mean death. What manner of spell could put a man into a "living death" I knew not, though little did I know I would seek out such power in all due time.

It soon came to my attention that the air was arid, for I began to sweat in the sultry blaze of the sun. The grains of sand on the wooden floor of the arena hinted that we were likely in a desert, beyond the high walled enclosure I was incarcerated in. Measuring 20 meters (66 feet) across, allowing movement of 18 meters (60 feet) from point to point, it was a perfect octagon, with room to maneuver but nowhere to run and certainly nowhere to hide. Icons floated above in the stands shaded by awnings. They were monolithic slabs bearing "heraldry" that identified the observer behind them, though why they needed such creature comforts is an eccentricity beyond me for they were likely just holograms anyway.

"Arise, warriors! Arise! The heat is just beginning!" boomed the bombastic masculine voice belonging to the Master of Ceremonies, emanating from all directions, like an omnipotent god. "Know that the World watches and waits with such anticipation, for will a new order be born this day or shall the Rule remained unchanged, crushing yet another misguided fool lost to the tide of the Cursed Wave?"

I was unconcerned with the overall dramatic production the Student Council appeared to be shooting for; in fact, I was even less concerned if this entire duel was presently telebroadcast to various elements in the student underground. An event to decide who would be the next Judge of the Judiciary Committee was quite serious business, after all. I was more concerned with how long I could fight underneath the "unfriendly" conditions, a sentiment that seemed to be shared by my Wookie counterpart.

Czerbahzacca appeared to not have changed much since our last encounter, to my good fortune; still, the same tall, imposing "beastman" minus the coat of hair characteristic of his people. He and I were dressed similarly, combat fatigues, boots, fingerless gloves, no top, though he chose to forego the convenience of an undershirt. Why? Perhaps, it was because he wanted to show off and intimidate me with his physique, which was nothing short of a honed killing machine. I felt decidedly underwhelming against that tanned, toned musculature, not to mention he is a good two and half times taller than me, a grown man, and a giant compared to a near-human "child" like myself of just six cycles. The phrase "David versus Goliath" was never truer.

Curiously, I noticed for the first time that he lacked the prominent "climbing" claws on his hands, again another a common trait amongst Wookies. Normally, one would not notice them as they are retractable and hidden by a Wookie's proud coat of hair, not to mention -- according Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau (I need to break from this habit of referring to him as such, one of these days) -- it is taboo to use these formidable claws in combat. In the case of my opponent, I saw he had filed them down considerably into just nails: could it be a precaution on his part?

Also, why was he wearing a leather choker around his throat? Strange.

As far as armament went, we were evenly matched: our "Power Belt" devices clearly visible, branding us akin to blood sport gladiators of yore. Where we differed was clearly in our weapons, while I chose to continue using the Slash Saber, and the Wookie had favored one of his people's traditional weapons, the _Ryyk_ Blade. Ordinarily, it is a wicked fifteen kilogram (33 pounds approx) broadsword comparable to a machete or _dao_ in function, using slashing or chopping attacks, as they were used to clear paths through the thick forests of Kashyyyk and fend off vicious predators.

A Wookie, of course, has no problem wielding such a weapon, and Czerbahzacca has gone the extra mile to fit a force field generator into the hilt, creating an effective "power sword". If I screwed up, the big wooly bastard would effectively cleave me in two; fists and kicks I can deal with, not a sword, thank you very much. ...I will have to take measures to disarm him or destroy his _Ryyk_ Blade as soon as the bout beings. No hard feelings.

"And now, the terms shall be brought forth. To the South by West, representing the Lady Illyasviel von Einzbern in this honor-bound duel, her defender, the champion: Czerbahzacca of Kashyyyk!"

A round of canned applause promptly assaulted our ears, just as planned, I suppose. He was the favorite for obvious reasons.

"To the North by East blows an ill wind, here he comes, the usurper, the challenger, the Breaker of Rule: Chrono Harlaown, Son of _The Hero_."

I expected some manner of boisterous response: condescension, and perhaps, outrage. The reasons were obvious, and besides my own intention and reputation, there was Fa..._That Man_'s...reputation to consider as well. _He_ had been humble to largely stay out of the public limelight, but word of his deeds could scarcely escape the scrutiny of the military and the upper rungs of our society. The words "Notorious," "Infamous", "Hailed", and "Glorified", I suppose, was common to the epitaph of a cultural celebrity.

A cultural hero, I think, is not appropriate to describe Him, at least until I have learned more of His past and deeds. But, I digress.

My reception was _deadly_ cold. Though I could not see them, I could feel their eyes on me behind those eyeless, proud monoliths, every one of them: an utterly self-serving hatred, destruction, wishing fervently for my failure, for my **death**. The Sergeant Major had spoken of such things back on Dilos Island that it was to expected in war, and we need only respond in kind. There was no place for compassion and weakness on the battlefield, at least not until the battle is over, when all that is left are the wounded and the dead. ...I never expected to experience it here in a "school".

I suppose, with ambition, comes enemies, naturally.

"Hark! Open thine ears and listen, Most Excellent Lords and Ladies, for the quarrel, the matter of honor and vanity We shall settle this day, on this very stage is the Rite of Succession to the Title of Judge. As you know, Young Harlaown, of him We have heard much, has expressed -- _dissatisfaction_, with Our rule -- and so, wishes to install himself the new Judge, Jury, and Executor."

There was crack of thunder in the distance, to my surprised astonishment. Glancing to the horizon, amazingly, I could see dark thunderheads coalescing in the blue skies, from all the four winds. It was an impossible phenomenon clearly under normal circumstances, but in a Reality Marble, the only rule that mattered was one's own _hubris_.

"A formal challenge he issued to the Honorable Judge, Lady Illyasviel of Einzbern, which she humored most graciously, a Noble's Courtesy. Of course, by that very agreement, it is beneath a lady of her standing to fight such a, _ahem_, petty quarrel, when it hardly concerns _The World_. Heroes and villains come and go as often as the seasons turn, for they are but actors upon a stage, a requirement of the times, used and discarded at _convenience_."

Rain: a not so subtle pitter-patter against my surroundings, running slick down my face, as I watched in astonishment the thundering dark downpour gather right above me, blotting out the sun. The things they mentioned were problems I had considered already; problems that would not apply to me for the simple reason that I was no hero, and I had no such aspirations. I was not trying to change the world, the galaxy, or anything that lofty high.

All I wanted was to go home in peace, correcting the "distortion" I perceived here in Atlas was just icing on the cake. This place was a school, not some bloody sandbox playground that bullies and tiger men and women could test out their twisted machinations, before applying it in true practice. I will leave this place better than I found it: a fair, unbiased ground that breeds neither the righteous nor the villainous, but simply, a sense of responsibility.

Soldiers should not burden themselves with what is right and what is wrong; that is a convention, a right decided by the needs of the times, the people. If you choose to burden yourself with that weight, then you cease to be a "Soldier", "degrading"(?) yourself to just another man with a "gun". ..."Loyalty to the End" so writ _Voyevoda _(Yuktobanian for "The Warlord") in война ("War"), a most excellent treatise on the art and philosophy of warfare (though there is still much debate as to the gender of the author to this day. I for one am of the persuasion that _The Warlord _was a woman, and still hold firm to that belief, until more firm evidence arises to say otherwise).

"Lords and Ladies, We agree there is no more fitting way than to settle this matter through **battle**. In a few moments, when great lightning strikes, the hounds of conflict shall be set loose. _En garde_! _Riposte_! And have at thee! for there are only four ways that ye shall leave this hallowed ground: by technical knockout - no longer able to fight, by knockout - incapacitated and therefore unable to fight, Surrender - to yield the field and your very Honor, and last but not least... To the _**Death**_."

To the death! This was not a part of plan at all; the possibility was vague, distant to my mind but to confront the grim reality now, my heart was not prepared. I was shaken. What should I-?

"Now, let _The Law of Shura _begin!" so declared a roar many voices crying out out as one.

There was a flash of white, spider webbed lightning cracked across the sky, deafening my ears. Only my newly honed battle instincts saved me, my eyes catching the electrified crackle of a power field igniting, and a blur of blue. I threw myself aside into a roll, the rain parting in the corner of my vision from the disturbance of approaching motion. My small size had a definitive advantage over the big "naked yeti": I was a much more elusive target.

A modest explosion of electric blue and splinters gusted into the rapidly cooling air from the _Ryyk_ blade smashing down, obliterating the planks where I once stood. I saw him, a great silhouette of black, veering about to meet me as I finished rolling off my shoulder, kipping up to stand at the ready. Back spinning on my right pivot foot, sliding my left to the rear, drawing a thud against the wood, I drew the slash saber clipped to my belt at the hip, twisting my body for momentum, and bracing an elbow against my chest to absorb the impending impact.

_Mana _rushed like molten metal from my body to both Weapon Devices, powering them up simultaneously: I pushed down the power belt's kinetic field with emphasis into my legs against the floor to counter the Wookie's monstrous strength, already augmented by his own device. The _magick_'d blades sparked to life a heartbeat later, the array of blades along the zanber a mix of "melting" energy, laced into a geometric matrix by each individual mini-power field to give it form and consistency, half-solid, half-liquid -- a flowing liquid metal. It was my "Second Sword", a semi-flexible defensive silvery-hued "blade" designed to absorb blows but still had some offensive capability; _mana_ drain is higher than "First Sword" but still manageable.

**CRASH**!

An electrified shockwave blasted outwards, the sky seeming roaring in approval, as the very wood beneath our boot-clad feet cratered and splintered with a pitiful whine under the superhuman stresses. White motes of spent _mana_ particles drifted in the air about us. My body felt numb and searing hot all at once, the adrenaline, the rush of battle calling to me. I had done it; I had clashed with Czerbahzacca's strike head on and survived, but there was no time to celebrate, for the real fight was just beginning.

With a guttural snarl, we broke off, skipping back several strides. The air of rain was tense; we sized each other up, circling like wolves, considering our next move. It was plain to see that I would not be overpowered so easily as before. What was not so obvious, even as our senses maligned from the lightning returned to normal, was how we would end this encounter. I...I did not want to kill him; what we were fighting for was not worth killing each other.

Why -- why had they even allow...how could they condone-?

The Wookie made the first move, crossing the gap in a few strides, and lunging in with a thrust. Rerouting the kinetic field to cover my body entirely, I stood my ground, and swung down to parry the blow aside. Sparks flew in a crackle of electricity but the opening I expected did not materialize, instead I found my weak side open with a powered fist, big enough to palm my head single-handed, screaming at me. He had not overextended himself at all; no, the difference in our sizes made it easy work for him to fight ambidextrously, while I was forced to fight two-handed.

Cornered and short on time, I improvised: stepping in with my weakened pivot foot to a stronger center of gravity, I twisted about full, dropping my body low, spinning like a top. I could feel the fist grazing me by hair breadths, leaving a tingling sensation across my skin, frightening, but I had bigger fish to fry. Pushing myself into the motion of the reverse low-high roundhouse kick, kicking leg straight, focusing the kinetic field around the heel to form a metaphorical sledgehammer aimed at Czerbahzacca's exposed side.

An crackling explosion of blue accompanied the moment of impact, the attack piercing the protective veil of his power belt and meeting naked flesh with a wet, primal crunch. Pain expressed itself in a guttural gurgle, as the Wookie stumbled away with a terrible seething face, bearing his teeth. I do not know if I heard right, but I think I felt it: something cracking, fracturing underneath the force of the blow - bone, his ribs? Of course, the muscle around there would be thinner compared to a head on attack to say his stomach. ...have I gone too far?

But the wound did not stop him; did not hinder him at all. It only made him angry and more determined to win. Back spinning as I finished recovering, a flurry of whistling blows caught me, forcing me into the defense. I skipped back and he followed; I blocked and he pressed on; again and again, such was the nature of the "dance".

"_Agh_, w-wait, da-damn you!" I cursed between grit teeth. Sparks showered left and right, and with each monstrous ringing impact, I could feel my arms, shoulders, and joints numbing. Talking was likely pointless but I needed to know his intentions, the strength of his resolve. "Are you serious, _gurgh_, about this? To sell your life-"

The last thing I expected was a fiery retort in perfectly fluent Basic, manly and bass, "What nonsense! To ask a warrior his resolve!"

"Wha!" I was surprised because a Wookie's vocal cords was not capable of such a tongue. Had he too received a "Charm" like the Gammorean I had met not so long ago? Ah, I see, it must be the choker!

"This is not a play for amusement! Realize, engrave it into your soul what it means to fight!"

"_Ehhh_, for such a worthless-"

"_Worthless_! Worthless, you say? **Scum**! How dare you!"

Clashing, locked blades shrieking in struggle; Czerbahzacca forced me into an unexpected contest of strength, to my private horror. I snarled defiantly, muscles bulging and limbs straining as my zanber was forced back inevitably, edging itself ever closer to my shoulder and neck. The wooden planks at our feet splintered and cracked in this titanic struggle: one that I was plainly losing for a Near-Human could never beat his superior, a Wookie, pound per pound in muscle. Mother Nature did not allow it, unless you were willing to cheat with cybernetics, gene therapy, nano-augmentations, and so on.

But that would not be fair, would it?

"You damned weakling!" the Wookie raged at me, pressing the advantage for all he was worth. I could see his intentions clear in his eyes through the flash and the rain: right here, right now; he could end it. "Surrender or Die!"

"You, _argh_, stupidly, strong _frakhead_!" I growled right back. He had me cornered with just bloody one hand! I needed more time, an opening...! "There is -- **not**! -- any meaning to this!"

"Wrong! There is an **Answer**!"

"Eh!"

"Loyalty! Duty! He will fulfill my oath to pay my debt and protect her!"

A "Life Debt"! That is an insane; how did that little witch of a girl manage to earn such a...

"Are you mad? That Einzbern, she is a **twisted **girl! Why would you-"

"_Twisted_! Twisted? Only **this **World is twisted! This World is what is mistaken! Evil!"

It was there in his moment of heated, passionate declaration, which both shocked and stunned me, that the "other" me saw an opportunity. The Wookie had hesitated in his fervor: his focus wavering just for a moment, but a moment was all "He" needed. Twisting the slash saber aside to shift the center of balance away from me, I "danced" out from underneath him, a choreographed quick step, pivot, and spinning. Without my presence suddenly absent, Czerbahzacca stumbled forward, lost his footing, tumbling down into a roll.

I knew what was coming next: a hasty reverse riposte, and I brought the "Fourth Sword" to bear, my strongest sword - blades of pure plasma crashing down against the rising Ryyk Blade. The two swords met in a white-hot clash, fields crackling electrically against each other, as we jockeyed for position to coax what we desired -- another step towards. Inevitably, it was a contest I won, when the powerfield emitter on the Ryyk Blade was overwhelmed, burned out with a pitiful squeal, and an instant later, the Weapon Device cleaved straight through the honor blade, like a hot knife through butter.

The Wookie, though, was gone, having abandoned his honor blade. He had rolled away to his feet, throwing himself into an acrobatic tumble of cartwheels and twisting into a several back flips to put more distance between he and I, and deter possible pursuit by myself. Of course, I had no intentions of following him immediately, instead I watched the admirable display of physical prowess play itself out, as vapors of steam rose from the sheets of raindrops extinguishing themselves upon the slash saber. Traces motes of spent _mana_ ejected out of the weapon's exhausts, dancing like fireflies, and burn out into embers, a dying fire: ashes.

"_Surrender_," I demanded -- no -- **ordered** in my own voice, cold and cool as ice. By the ghoulish blue glow of smoldering plasma, painting myself a grim harbinger of doom, my mind was gauging the distance between us; plenty of room to focus for a sword strike by my estimate, roughly twenty of my strides, and half of that for him. "I have no stomach for vain bloodshed. You cannot best me with just your fists."

"Wrong, it is you who has lost! Behold, this Czerbahzacca's _OverSkill_: _The Heart of My Soul Lies Here_!"

Planting his feet into the floor, each step thunderous, almost an earthquake, splintering the wood planks, he held his right fist into the sky. It was ridiculous stance, absolutely open to attack; I would have rushed in myself had my mind not grasped the phenomenon in front of me. True to the legends of OverSkills, I saw something both beautiful and powerful that left me trembling in awe.

A glow, an inner fire like a state of _Zen_, was exuding from his very body; time slowed visibly within that aura of influence -- no -- peace. How could I see the time dilation? Simple. The rain drops had decelerated. More importantly, I could feel a grave fear biting like a freezing spray of blizzard in my face.

_Mana_ in its natural state, you see, is usually invisible to the naked eye, only with enhanced vision or sophisticated instruments can one actually perceive the elementary energy. Right now, I could see it all around him a dazzling swarm of prismatic particles, as a flow of the stuff entered his circuits straight through his weapon device and "Access Points" all across his body. He looked like a great tree that set down roots straight into the leyline of the planet, as the power concentrated at that outstretched fist, pointed at the heavens.

_So that's why Mister Beastman said it was over_, a curious voice surfaced in my thoughts.

Damn that Wookie. He had me in check. If I go up against an attack like that, an all or nothing gamble, it could destroy me, kill me. I...

_Hey_, _you's_! _Ya not giving up here now, are ya_?

To bet my life on a fight like this, a meaningless...

_Ah_, _but that mixed-up bastard has a reason_, _no_?

Trifles. Loyalty? Duty? Fulfilling an oath? I am Soldier not a Hero. The answer I want, I need, is not...

_Bingo_, _all the more reason we gotta fight_, _yeah_?

"I acknowledge your resolve, but you cannot win against me," I announced flatly, feeling the icy grip of fear leave me at last.

The Wookie cut the "lightshow" as well, his preparations evidently complete as he brandished his clenched fist likened to a sword at me, "Ha, enough. Here, is the end of your ambition!"

Without the phenomenon caused by the activation of his OverSkill, the fist did not seem anymore threatening than it usually did, but as the saying goes, "looks can be deceiving." Chances were that at this very moment that fist was the equivalent of a nine-hundred kilogram (2000 lbs) bunker buster bomb, and his Power Belt's shielding capability was at max operation. It would protect him once before a limiter kicked in, allowing the device's emitters to cool down and recharge.

I could attempt to wrangle him at range with the "Third Sword" -- a "beam whip" if you will -- but I did not trust my aim, nor did I feel I had the sufficient torque to redirect his strike. It would have to be at close range for the idea was to send his fist into the ground, directing most of the blast energy downwards, while only selectively shielding myself from the ensuing explosion. I would be hurt, however, the gambit was necessary as during the time where the Wookie's device was "Power Down'd" he would be extremely vulnerable to my kinetically charged strikes. Wherefore, I will take him apart, force him to surrender, or simply knock him out, before I lose consciousness from my own injuries.

Oh hell, I am knocking the big naked carpet out. His type will never surrender.

"Just so you are aware, _warrior_. I will do what I can to see to it that yourself and the Einzbern are protected from any violent backlash, as it would be my new responsibility to restore the public order. I am not interested in revenge. Setting things to rights is what I am after, an end to this corruption. I do not understand why they, the so-called adults, allowed it all to happen even, but this institution is a school, not a place for thugs, gangs, and power plays."

"_Fool_, what can you hope to accomplish in just two years?"

"Once I am in power, I will lay down fresh ground, a new foundation for those who will follow after me. I will breakthrough this impossible wall, and some day, **Atlas **will be as it should be: **this **_experiment_ finished. Change is not easy. Change is slow. The young ones, people, have to begin to think differently that it is not -- _okay_ -- as the word goes on the commons -- for them: to live in the shadow of corruption and power, so long as they are not affected, so long as they can partake and be happy in its sweet vileness."

Czerbahzacca narrowed his eyes in cool skepticism. I could read the unspoken question in the air like an open book.

"And what of me? My _trial_, my **pain **will continue... I do not know what **they** have in store for me after this; I am only a _mouse_, after all. But in the meantime, I just want to go home to my mother and family, with my new friend, and enjoy the break for what it is worth. I will discover the reasons, _**The Answer**_, eventually...I am sure.Simple, eh?"

A flicker bewilderment flickered across his eyes, as he finished putting it all together, and I did not blame him: my words in total had been utterly absurd. To think there was any one, any organization out there with the power "to play God", and worse yet, to meet someone who in such an improbable situation was unbelievable. However, if it were true, then...

"He knew it. You are an **ill**-omen, Son of _The Hero_."

It took a lot of willpower not to snarl at the mention of -- _That Man_. Why...! Why must they compare me to _Him_?

"I _agree_, so how about we bring this little stage play to its bloody conclusion?"

The crack of thunder deafened the whip crack activation of the "Third Sword", the separate "threads" from the emitters joining as one to form a scintillating green-hued beam whip, as we charged to decide our destiny. Flashing white lightning painted us black in stark relief, the distance lessening with the thud of each footfall lost in the symphony of the storm. I suppose, it was like a duel, each of us considering in split second attack maneuvers and lines intrinsic to our thoughts. As for myself, I considered even attempting to wrench his feet out right from underneath him, but a miss could prove fatal and open up a whole new avenue of disaster.

No, I had to go with what I knew would work.

We met, front and center, thunder drowning out our war cries, faces distorted in frightening feral, almost grotesque expression of violence, rage. Time slowed to a crawl in the high of adrenaline and stress. The Wookie struck first, using his size and reach to his advantage, with a quick jab from his wounded side, a feint my instincts recognized luckily, for he was not stopping at all. In fact, his left foot, leading, had stepped deliberately into my guard.

He was preparing for a lunging knee strike, the closeness necessary to score a hit, as I was much shorter than him. Yes, I saw his plan now: even if his feint failed, he could catch me in the upper chest or even at least clip me in the chin to lift me into the air with him, and then deliver the finishing blow with his waiting fist. Aggressive, purposeful; just what I would expect out of a Wookie.

Alas, Czerbahzacca has no clue of my training with Lieutenant Lotte Lieze. She did not spar with me as often as Ryuune Zoldark, but that was not her area of focus: body hardening, body building, endurance, mental preparation, turning the recruit into a student of the martial arts whom can be taught by any master was her goal. Above all else, what she emphasized the most, the most important thing to a student in her opinion?

"_**Flexibility**_, duh! If you're not flexible, you're already a cripple in a fight; you sure as XXX can't dance, either; and I'm definitely not taking you to my bedroom-_nyan_! Why? ...What! You don't know the saying that the way a Man dances in the way He makes love-_nya_?!"

...Erm, yes, I...I am not quite sure I needed to know all of that, but I think it help to justify the pain I went through, and why I was the subject of many a laugh in gossip and passing. Of course, none of them had a clue as to why I was "crab walking" all over the place, and the rumors were ultimately baseless, so I was saved from a few more "unpleasant incidents" during that week. You will forgive me if I do not chronicle those incidents in detail, for I think my own agonies of "growing up" are petty compared to the pain those I came to love had to suffer, but I digress.

With a split second decision to make between my coming victory and perhaps death, I twisted, pivoting about face sharply on the balls of my feet, and kicking out into an split fall. I could hear the squeal from the soles of my combat boots protesting, such reckless treatment, but to feel the sudden interruption of raindrops hitting me as a body leapt passed overhead, disrupting the air, I felt vindicated for a change. All my hard work was paying off at last, and now, to move things along to the last phase.

"An opening!" I barked. Slamming a charged fist into the ground, as I scissor'd my legs together to bounce back up, I lashed out with the slash saber, sending the beam whip lashing out with a whistle. A savage snarl of reproach seared the air from the Wookie, as a satisfying crack rewarded me of my twitch reflexes aiming true, the fall of my whip seizing his deadly arm. "Mine!"

I had him right where I wanted him, still airborne in his leaping knee strike. Reaching out now with my freehand, I grasped the outstretched thong, winding it rapidly to add to my control and leverage, before sweeping over and planting a powered heel kick down upon the thong. The effect was immediate and violent, wrenching Czerbahzacca's great hulking mass out of the air helplessly and sending his deadly fist crashing into the ground. As I expected, there was a thunderous shudder at the moment of impact, and a heartbeat later, an invisible shockwave-like disruption made visible by the rain rippled outwards.

The actual explosion came much sooner than even my mind could anticipate or detect.

There was no noise or anything, a supersonic boom beyond comprehension at ground zero that forced the brain to cut the input lest my eardrums be blown out. Time slowed to a crawl. Searing heat kissed my exposed flesh on my face and arms, peeling back the skin and underlying tissues to get to the muscle. I could feel my teeth and bones rattling, before the base instinct to survive finally acted as the slash saber disintegrated literally in the white flame. Tucking myself into a ball to reduce my exposed surface area, as I was lifted clean off my feet, the wooden planks that made the arena floor were being ripped out of the ground, literally, by the tremendous blast energy

Of course, I instinctively changed my plan a bit, putting much greater emphasis into my shields and praying silently that they would hold and not burn out. Forced to close my eyes, I was as helpless as a newborn pup, blind and deaf, and completely dependent for nurturing and protection from his mother. Alas, I had no such luxury: it was a world of darkness and a numbing ringing noise, as a painful pressure built upon my concentration, like a spike being hammered into my brain. There was nothing to do but wait, and perhaps, offer up a prayer, if one was so inclined, though I strongly doubt most of the Pantheon would care for the frightened or anxious calls of a mere soldier.

Only Death and Despair would care for soldier in his hour of need. And I -- did not pray. I thought of one thing and one thing only: perseverance. My chance will come.

It might have been an instant in time, but to me it was an eternity in that space of void. The sudden impact, an explosion of pain against the small of my back, though, wrenched my eyes open to a haze of white and smoke: breaking, falling, twisting, bouncing, air rushing past my ears...I was descending somewhere. Reverberations, running water; I see, there must be some kind of service level right underneath the area floor.

How romantic of the Student Council for choosing such architecture, eh?

_KRASH_!

The water, I think, cushioned my fall somewhat, but it also exacerbated my misery just a little further. Goosebumps erupted fiery hot, like pins and needles, stabbing into my exposed skin, though the shock from the frigid water was helpful in returning my consciousness to normalcy. I opened my eyes, moving terribly sluggishly, and in the daze, I did notice as larger splash nearby, as wooden debris rained down from above, joining the drops of rain.

Coughing, struggling to my feet, I noted idly my feet were roughly shin deep in the waters. There was kind of cavernous ambience in the area for I could hear the moaning of wind coming through the passages, or perhaps, was it the storm above instead? In any case, I was caught completely flat footed when a thunderous snarl seemed to assault me from all directions. Panicked, my body commanded my adrenal glands for another shot of the stuff, as I swept the dark haze for the Wookie, praying my eyes would adjust in time to see his approach.

They did not but my ears were still useful. Hearing the disturbance of air to my left, as the splash of footfalls made an abrupt cut, I fell into basic combat stance, and stepped into the strike, bracing for the impact. I reckoned the strike was coming high crack me across the temple of my head, the most sure fire way to kill me or incapacitate me. Luckily, the power belt was still active, as I raised both my forearms to take the blow, affording me an extra layer of protection in the strike zone.

Perhaps, it was a beam of wood, some impromptu two-by-four he found amongst the debris. Yet despite such an unrefined weapon, he swung with such ferocity that I could feel Czerbahzacca's immense might blasting into my bones and body. The weapon exploded into splinters. My shielding had held, but I was thrown back: arms numb, muscles torn, the bones fractured, useless. A shrill scream of pain escaped my lips for the first time, bringing my vision into sharp focus as I hobbled, flailing wildly, to maintain my balance.

I could not believe it! My mind reeled in shock. He was beating me without magic! His last strike had no enhanced kinetic force behind it at all for his power belt was presently recharging, just like I had deduced. How was it possible he could have hurt me? Had I made a mistake? I...by Mystra, what is that light?!

It was then I realized I had been had: Czerbahzacca did, in fact, have **two **devices, just like I. We were even from the start, though with this new development, I think, perhaps it was an uphill battle from the start. A primal, terrifying aura of red was smoldering off him, no, it was as if he was possessed, every muscle and vein in his body bulging and rippling out grotesquely, burning aflame from some inner fire. I could see no trace of sentient consciousness in his eyes, now glowing orbs of crimson madness. Runes of "power" were clearly visible along the body of the leather choker around his neck that seemed to dance and rage, as if threatening to jump out at any moment.

"Break, break, break, break, break, break..." I heard his guttural muttering through the slaver dripping from his open jaws. The Wookie repeated it over and over again like a mantra, breathing and exhaling sharply, like he was trying to psych himself up in ritual. It was some kind of trance, not to death but something else...

...a berserker?

"BREAK YOU!"

He was upon me in a heartbeat, and with my arms out of commission, there was little more I could do than try to avoid the flurry of blows assailing me. His increased speed did not allow for any counterattacks. Our close range was also an issue for my only options left was kicks, a head butt, a shoulder charge, or a knee spike. Ducking a straight punch, and swaying aside to graze by a shovel hook that nicked me across the cheek: I was particularly fortunate he was interested in smashing face in rather than targeting my other vitals. It made dodging a lot easier, considering the smaller target my head presented to him, though a direct hit from his haymakers would spell doom for me, and very likely, fatal. There would be no one to stop him and he would grind me into a bloody pulp.

I promise you, not my idea of a fair fight at all.

Of course, inevitably, I began to tire, the frigid water pooling inside my combat boots not helping, and sure enough, I made a mistake: too slow and a surprise elbow smash creamed viciously into my nose, which broke with a sickening wrench. My shielding had only taken enough bite off the blow not to send me into blissful oblivion. I backpedalled, stunned by the concussive blow, eyes seeing double, and vulnerable to a follow up attack: he took out my shoulders, twin hammer fists that with his size and brutal strength worked just as effectively as sledgehammers. Muscle and bone became weak, and I faltered, but amazingly, did not fall, my knees having locked into a crouched standing gait.

However, I was "dead" footed now and still reeling in pain: a great fist was cocked, ready to descend upon me, probably with enough force to take my head clean off my shoulders, just like the headsman's axe. I could not even muster the energy to be frightened, as time seemed to slow. There was only bitter disappointment. After everything I went through -- and this was the result? I could not bear the truth of reality -- no -- the warped truth of the twisted reality they had created! I am not going to cry!

"I..." Don't XXX with me.

"**Break**...!"

"I..." Who the hell did they think I am?

"_Break_...!"

"I...!" If they want to see miracle to happen, then just wait a moment, I'll create one myself: a miracle!

"**DIE**!"

* * *

Ho? A miracle, huh? Heh. Aren't you a little too young to be trying to pull off a Man's job...hmm? Besides, you're still missing something important, but don't worry, Big Papa's got ya covered. Come on, you didn't think I'd forget your birthday now, did you? Kid, who the hell do you think I...! Oh, look, I think something useful is coming your way now. What is it?

A miracle, _duh_.

* * *

...what the!

Suddenly, an eruption of blue flame appeared in the intense space betwixt us, cutting my thoughts short; it was not an explosion but a surge of force, like a molten river of fire flowing outwards, that threw us apart. Czerbahzacca, instantly, was immolated, without the protection of his power belt, while I was relieved to find that I could withstand the inferno. If I had been more ruthless of heart, I would have been on him in a heartbeat, but I was more concerned with the larger than life figure taking shape in the firestorm. It was humanoid, giant, dwarfing even the Wookie and getting bigger by the second: a burning "man" who was writhing himself, as if he were in pain from the fire. That did not make any sense, if he was the source of the phenomenon, how could he be hurt by it as well?

I was tempted to address him, but as the flame began to broil the waters into a hot steam, it became obvious conversation was out of the question. If anything, I needed to deal with the Wookie first and then get him out of here, before we are both cooked alive. My more Samaritan plans, though, were put on hold when the burning man whirled around: a tremendous jet wash of heat washing over me that threatened to knock me over. However, I felt no fear, if anything I was intrigued for it was silent scream he gave me, his jaw almost seeming to unhinge grotesquely, and more disturbingly...

He had **my face**?

_Pop_.

Just like that, he was gone and the flames with him, air rushing into the gap of space he once filled. The vapors of steam rising from the waters, and the ugly, disgusting stench of burnt flesh: the only proof he was ever here. I was at a loss for words, however, my contemplations would have to wait yet again; Czerbahzacca, that persistent carpet, _erm_, _hairless_ bastard was getting up. At that point, I think I had had it with him, considering the two bizzare, "out of body" paranormal phenomena I had just experienced, I was not in the mood for chivalry anymore.

The flames, apparently, had some magical property too, as the blood red runes of "Power", which held the spell protocol together, had degraded substantially. Czerbahzacca seemed to only be standing from a combination of the berserker's madness and his own will, in spite of the severity of his second-degree burns, showing visible harsh reddening and blistering of his skin. Rolling around in the water had helped to reduce the damage, I think. How much actual sanity he had left I did not care for anymore, though I praise for his devotion, even without my offer of asylum, he would have managed well to protect his lady, physically at least.

It was time to settle this: I charged him, no battle cry, just a sharp hiss of breath, body low to the ground. The rapid splashes of my footfalls spoke volumes enough of my determination. Once more, the Wookie roared, an awesome frightful cry, and used his reach to his advantage; however, under half the influence of the "Berserker" he struck recklessly with a full haymaker from the right. If it was as before, I would have been struck, but with only half of the spell's power, his speed was much more manageable. The fact, he was going for my face yet again made it all the easier.

Dropping low on one foot for a pivot, I spun into a low reverse sidekick, easily mistaken for a sweep had I not been aiming higher. His fist sailed overhead, whistling, grazing me as I dropped, while my own boot clad feet homed in on forefoot's kneecap, powered additionally by a kinetic field. The joint did not stand a stand a chance, breaking with a sickening crunch that drew a howl of agony from him. Crippled, the mighty warrior fell to his knees, water spraying, as the titanic sound of thunder echoed in, amplified through the gaping ceiling above.

Of course, I knew I was not out of the woods yet. Ryuune Zoldark had taught me well that a fight was never over until the other "_shavit_-sucking _frak_face" was down and out, dead, or had surrendered and been dealt with accordingly. The Wookie was far from finished, even as I retracted my foot, tucking myself into a crouch, and leaning forwards. Valiantly, he lunged for me, intent on pounding me to blood and dust, but I saw it coming from million parsecs away. With a powered assist pushing off the ground, I sprang up into a somersault, water trailing behind me off my boots, as I revolved in place like a top, gaining momentum and speed, with each rotation. There would be no need for the power belt's abilities on this final blow for I was far from interested in killing the Wookie.

I could do it on my own, to grasp victory here and now decisively with my own strength, though the other "Me" was happy to provide a little colorful dialogue:

"THIS IS PAYBACK FOR BREAKING MY HANDSOME NOSE-MANLY REVOVLING! DROP! KIIIIIIIII-ICKKKU!"

Double "Whammy!" to the face! I am confident even David did not make it look that good when he brought down Goliath. The rest as they say, is history. I just hope they could get he and I to a medical facility in time. Medics are the best. Siege-level Offensive spells are great, but medics will always be number one in my heart.

Without them, I am confident I would not be here today compiling and writing these entries.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. KENZAI! Entry 1.15 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. It took a while but we are here. To those of you who reviewed the last episode, thank you as always. Your interest and encouragement fuels the fire.

I hope this chapter was an entertaining read. I did not have much to work as it was seriously a gladiator grudge match to be honest, but do not sweat, things will change once I get them Storage and Intelligent Devices out. Do not worry, we are going to cruise through Year 2 so we can finally get to that ground school Graduation Exam in the Jilachi Desert to see all the hardwork the kids put in for 3 years come to fruition. After that it's off to flight school.

Please, look forward to it. In the meantime, its time to go home and visit Lindy and the family for some WAFF, comedy, and drama. We have not seen 'em face to face in long a while! Isn't coming home great?

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail or PM me (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	16. Entry 1 16: Return to Boyhood

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.16:

A Return to Boyhood

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

I was out for two and a half days, waking up once more in a hospital room (or any other unfamiliar ceiling; a feat I would come to repeat all too often in the coming years). Surprisingly alert I found myself to be; perhaps, my condition was not so serious to require sedatives to keep me under, though I thought my injuries was nothing to laugh at had I been living on a world with less than first-class medical care.

Ever the stalwart fool, I should not have been surprised to have found Nagi Dai Artai there to greet me, just a matter of hours ago before I was discharged and hustled onto the flight. He brought me up to speed well enough: I won, and I would be inaugurated as the new Judge at the school opening ceremony. Also, I just missed the academic year closing ceremony, someone already made an attempt on my life while I was out, and the attempt was thwarted violently by Zoldark and the cat on her lap in the armchair across from my bedside. ...What!

It was a lot to take in at once. Yes, I am grateful to -- what! What's Ryuune doing here and, hey, it's _That Cat _again! Oh, right; they saved me from my would be assailants. Wait, hold on a second, how could word already have gotten out that I was to be the new Judge of the Student Disciplinary Committee?

Nagi's explanation: there was a deliberate information leak from inside the Student Council, and now, Atlas' _Underground_ was in full uproar that I was the "new sheriff" on the block. They always knew about me, but I was hardly worth their notice then, just another fortunate son of some war hero, "born with a silver spoon in his mouth". I was learning first hand that those who obtained power must also fight to keep that power, for there are few who would not desire it, too, for themselves.

Of course, ever the debonair devil-may-care, The Fool told me not to fret, for he was certain I would be up to the task when it came time to cross that particular burning bridge. I only had two years left (as I would be making up the trimester I missed in my first year with extra courses, so as to graduate "on time") to a set a new standard here at Atlas. Meaning, I had one year to clean out the trash, and one year to solidify my "legacy" and choose a new successor from amongst my juniors. Now that I can see it all before me, I must say it was an overwhelming task, considering I still had to keep up with my studies at the same time too. Either he had supreme confidence in me or he was just waiting to laugh it up when I crashed and burned miserably in the act of accomplishing the impossible.

Actually checking out of the clinic was not so easy, compounded by Nagi's infernal act to rouse Ryuune from her slumber. She was quite cute, with her usual unrefined charm, parked in a tomboyish swagger in the chair by my bedside, arms and legs thrown about whimsically, and her glasses at an off angle. The presence of the oddly familiar "kitten" in her lap, never mind the drool threatening to dribble out of the corner of her mouth, only seemed to make the image more endearing. Then again, I suppose, I have a strange appreciation for what is "cute".

In any case, the albino boy procured a glass of water and proceeded to splash both her and the cat. The apocalypse promptly broke out moments later with twin feminine yowls: Ryuune leaping out of her seat, launching the cat into the air, which transformed into a stark naked Lieutenant Lotte Lieze...sorry, I would go further but I lost consciousness via "Red Out". I awoke some moments later, revived with ammonia salts, before having cotton balls jammed up my nostrils, as the same medical droid wiped off my cheeks and lip with a sterilized cloth impregnated with alcohol.

Nagi was nowhere to be found, and neither was Lotte, though I spied from the corner of my eye a torn sleeve from his uniform lying on the floor. My Corellian friend was still present, although she was presently occupied banging her head repeatedly into the wall, muttering something about perverts and cats, as a lab coat clad doctor came in, with a clip board tucked under her arm. The woman spared a glance for a moment at Ryuune before rolling her eyes in dismissal at the act, chalking it up to the eccentricity of stress. She gave me something a glowing prognosis: my bones were healing fine, and I would still grow into a handsome boy as extensive reconstruction surgery was not necessary on my broken nose.

However, I should rest up well and eat plenty for the week, as the accelerated healing process had robbed me of much strength. Also, I should not be alone either, for sudden spells of weakness were likely to occur during the recuperation process, meaning no strenuous exercise, and please, do avoid heavy lifting. It was nothing short of a miracle that I would still be able to leave base at all, and quite frankly, she wanted to keep me here, but her recommendation was waived from higher above: the reason being I did not go back for winter break. At the very least, I should be able to see my family now.

I think, it was one of the few times I was grateful to higher authority for intervening on my behalf. Dressed with the aid of the medical droid, I was shuffled out and pleasantly surprised that all my luggage had already been packed and readied for the trip. I ought to feel offended at Nagi for going through my things, but with only an hour left before my flight, I would let him slide just this once. The round of pleasant surprises did not end, though, for Ryuune decided to claim the seat right beside me aboard the tactical cargo lifter that the military airlift command got us a spot on. There were only a few other passengers in the cabin designed to seat some 92 personnel, or 64 airborne troops, or 74 litter patients with 2 medical personnel. The lack of passengers, of course, was being allocated to cargo instead, as we are never one's to make waste.

With Zoldark right beside me, I was hoping for some manner of pleasant conversation to kill time, compared to my previous experience with the young prince from the north. Unfortunately, my hopes were dashed as I came under fire from "The Look" doubled up with a full fusillade of "The Silent Treatment". I had done something to earn her ire, so it seemed, but what in Mid-Childa could it be this time? I followed through on my promises, did I not? Yes, I was wounded in the process but that is to be expected in our line of "work", so to speak.

Still, it was a long flight, the droll lull of monotony inevitably kicked in, and Mystra rewarded me with the thump of a head of blonde hair upon my shoulder. The realization, finally, struck me then how different people could be when they were asleep: for example, Ryuune Zoldark was positively an adorable angel in the dreaming world. The charmed glasses she seemed to have become fond of only enhanced the image; you would never suspect she was a hard charging, smart mouthed, uncompromising spitfire of a Battle School "brat".

Never mind the fact I felt a sudden heat rise in my cheeks, as I contemplated this, and with her out, my mind eased and I turned myself to other matters. There was a lot to think about on the flight back home to Cranagan, other than the obvious fact I had seen home in over a year. I was concerned most with Mother. What was it she wished to speak with me in private? How was she faring truly? Her career? How was she getting along with Letti Lowran and Tetsuya Onodera?

Speaking of the Lieutenant-Commander... I wanted to know how much he knew about the conspiracy at Atlas I found myself up to my neck in. Was it something -- _That Man _-- had planned out all along? How was it possible his shadow was reaching out to me even from the grave? Who were the people in cahoots with him? Why were they so interested in me? What were they trying to turn me into? ...and more disturbingly, what was **that **_thing _I saw?

**The Burning Man**.

He had my face, perhaps, not exactly...but if I were to imagine myself some years older...then yes, there was no mistake. What was he, some kind of freak quantum phenomenon? Or worse yet, a _Jumper_? Unthinkable, though the Bureau is called the Space-Time Administration Bureau, actual quantum-related activities, such as time travel or dimensional jumping, is strictly taboo, forbidden. The reason was obvious: the consequences of such practices lead to a hellish conundrum of "complications" that we sentient beings lack the wisdom to deal with. It is one thing to create life but another matter altogether to play god with the threads of "Fate" themselves.

Ugh, sometimes I wonder if I had been better off born as an ordinary boy. Why all these plans? Why all these intrigues over a six cycle old child? It would be a miracle if I even make it to my fourteenth birthday!

"How I wish it was all just a bad bream. That I could be home tonight and tell Mother of all the good times I had while I was away," I murmured, leaning my head against the Corellian girl, my eyes drooping. "But that would be a lie. Maybe, I lost any chance of having a normal childhood the moment I was born. Maybe, joining the Bureau was entirely inevitable. I never had a choice. It was something I was born to do, meant to do, that is why I must fight, even if I do not want to...because it cannot be helped, right?"

Sleep.

* * *

Cranagan National Intergalactic was as busy an aerospace port as I remembered the days leaving and coming, not so long ago. There were facilities for both aircraft and spacecraft, making the airspace above the capital one of the most heavily regulated and guarded zones in Mid-Childa. A single interloper of any cut could spell disaster for the millions living in our majestic metropolis, a fantastic fusion of the old and the new: science, technology, culture, and magic coming together to bridge the yesterday and tomorrow to today. Unfortunately, I am not an tour guide so you will forgive me for not painting a better picture of the urban landscape: a remarkable harmony of Man and Nature.

If you have visited here and gone anywhere else in the galaxy, I promise, Cranagan will surprise you as to how "green" it is, despite all of its offerings, i.e. "flying cars", towering skyscrapers standing side by side to Giant Sequoia _mana_ trees, malls, landmarks, etc. Compared to the steel jungle that is Coruscant, the heart of the Galactic Republic of which we are a part of, this city is virtually a paradise, as the Mid-Childans have learned to preserve Mother Nature. It was an monumental effort on our part so that future generations may experience Her love, for it was from Her we were born, and it is to Her we shall return, with any luck.

I, for one, do not plan on meeting my end in the vacuum of dead space. It would be the most horrible place to die imaginable: devoid of life, isolated and alone. Condemned, my spirit would turn into an _aether wraith_, until some brave soul could return my body to earth and deliver the last rites. Well, at least that is the idea I have heard from the folklore I read at the libraries; I am not particularly religious, but spiritual? Yes, I do worry about what is to happen to me, when I should die, which I hope will not be for some time to come yet.

Anyways, it was quite late at night when we arrived, and even later yet before we were finally standing outside the bustling arrival terminal, ambient with the chatter of sentients and the zoom of various forms of transportation from swoop bikes to landspeeder taxis. People were coming and going, be they alien races or humans, and they hardly bothered to take notice of two young Bureau cadets in the busy beat of their lives. We, too, did not take much notice of them.

Our primary concern was that Spring in Cranagan was noticeably warmer than Spring back in Atlas, as Zoldark and I found ourselves sweating quite uncomfortably in our warm uniforms, straight down to our loafers. Of course, I suppose, the difference humidity did not help, but either way, it did not foster much of a congenial mood at all in the Corellian hellcat. The _magick _of her charmed glasses spoke volumes for her, with the colors of her hair and eyes flickering like a kaleidoscope across the entire visible spectrum of light.

I thought it was adorable.

Alas, she did not share my appreciation.

"Hey, I thought you were a spoiled, rich _pa_'_thak_!" Ryuune huffed, arms akimbo, as she directed her thundering mood towards the city skyline. It was a marvelous, living neon scene of halogen lights, colors, billboards, high rises, and the movement of distant airspeeders, transports, and so on. "...where's our ride, darn it?"

Darn it? Wow. I never thought she was capable of using lesser expletives, then again, I suppose the sight of Cranagan at night must be having a soothing effect on her. She had a kind of soft, far away haze in her eyes. Could it be -- nostalgia, perhaps? She was a city girl, after all.

I coughed, ignoring the reddening of my cheeks, "Well, in such a robust, preeminent metropolis, traffic can be horrible regardless of whether you are coming from the air or going low to the ground, Zoldark."

"B-S. No way things would take this long on Corellia!" she shot a haughty smile.

"Hm, then allow me to use this moment of respite to apologize."

"And for what, smartass?"

"Making more work for you."

_Thump_!

"Gah! _arghh_, I think, I probably deserved that," I seethed, favoring the back of my head, "but could you maybe give me an explanation too?"

"Hmph! At least, I didn't knock your barrack's cover off. Why, I oughta," her words were cut short by the keening hum of a landspeeder settling down on the curb before us. The silver craft bore a sleek, rounded frame, with an enclosed cockpit and twin rear-mounted repulsorlift engines. Its company brand insignia: twin "M's" slotted within each other marked it as a MandalMotors vehicle.

"Hey, I think that's our ride, right? Wow, a MandalMotors LUX-3 Landspeeder, Harlaown? Your folks got good taste. I think, my respect for y'all just went up a notch or two."

As the luxury landspeeder idled, a tall, gangly droid stepped out a moment later. He (male-patterned personality matrix, you see) was a FA-5 valet droid, manufactured by the Soro Suub Corporation, and "tuned up" by one of our staff back at the estate some time before I was born. It had been quite some time since we last met. However, by the red choker emblazoned with a particular family coat of arms, and his frame painted in white and blue, the colors of the livery in my household, I was able to identify him. He was "Jean-Pierre 49" or just "J.P." for short, a name he chose himself, with the last two digits being of some personal significance to himself and a few others privy to his counsel.

"Good evening, Little Master, and to you as well, Mademoiselle," he greeted us in digitized tenor, pleasant and cool, as he gave a bow as well. "I see you are still as short as ever, though cross-reference with my memory banks indicates you have grown. How fascinating. Oh, where are my manners? Pardon me for the belated arrival, Sir, but traffic on Mondays is dreadful in the capital be it by air or land, even at this sleepy hour."

"Wh-Whoa, hold up here!" Ryuune guffawed, abruptly, throwing her hands up in the air. "Ehe-hehe! D-Did you just call him -- _LITTLE _MASTER?"

"Yes, is there a problem, Mademoiselle?" Jean-Pierre cocked his head aside in a subtle, yet so human quirk.

"Pffffffftttt-ahahahha! That's the funniest thing I heard all day. Don't tell me he's going to grow up into a late blooming shortie eight years from now?"

"Mademoiselle, with the young master's unique physiology, my logic circuit concludes it would be wise not to discount the possibility at all. Assuming yourself to be closer to a baseline human, you will likely be in the blossom of young womanhood by then, and many heads taller than he, whereas the young master would very likely still look as if he were a prepubescent boy of nine or ten cycles of age. It is a complexity of the Mid-Childan blood, you see, that factors in their long lifespan."

"A sense of humor and brains? _Hah_, I like you! Not too shabby for a droid at all. Name's Ryuune Zoldark. Miss Zoldark will do just fine, so knock it off with the Mademoiselle trash already. I'm not some prim and proper rich girl you got to impress with good manners and customs, after all. What do they call you?"

"Thank you. I am Jean-Pierre Forty-Nine (just J.P. will do), and it is my pleasure to meet you, Miss Zoldark. You are most curious individual among carbon sentients yet, for most would not bother to ask if a droid had a name."

"Hey, now, give me a little more credit here, J.P. I figured you're pretty different from normal droids from that introduction there, so I thought I ought to treat you a little bit different too."

"Ahem!" I interjected then, somewhat regretfully, to break up their rather animated exchange. "I hate to break up the moment, but shall we stow our things so we can depart? Unless you two, truly, wish to spend a few more minutes shooting the breeze and embarrassing me on the side for fun. In which, we can do that as well on the way home. J.P. is a droid and multi-tasking is his forte. I promise you, he will have no problems keeping his eyes on the road and entertaining you at the same time, Zoldark."

At those remarks, the Corellian gave another laugh while J.P. went for our luggage, emitting a beeps, bloops, and whistles as he went about his task; it was his way of laughing, respectfully. After all, it would not technically be rude, an act in violation of his code, to laugh in binary (or Droidspeak) as few people would be able to understand him. I could not understand binary, certainly, but experience has taught me well enough.

Considering those two hit it off right out from the gates, I had the sinking feeling that the drive home was going to merciless on me.

* * *

Oh, how right I was... Jean-Pierre and Ryuune were relentless, and as I expected, merciless. I had the feeling the Corellian was enjoying, particularly, getting "all the dirt" she could lay hands on from gossip and old childhood tales from the droid. Her reason for doing so: to stop me from doing things that might otherwise complicate her life, unnecessarily, for I was hell on two legs, arms, and a brain that did not bother to think, apparently.

If it was going to take an embarrassing childhood memory to humble me, then so be it. Granted, methinks she was a little disappointed there were few and far "adorable" memories of my younger self. In a way, it was disturbing just how precocious I was now that I have the benefit of some age and experience to contrast and compare with the "He" who existed before me.

My childhood had been, perhaps, too short.

* * *

T'was around midnight or zero-one-hundred in the morning methinks when we finally arrived to the ancestral home of the Le Fay. Out in the country was where I grew up, along the Coast of the Sword, famous in time since antiquity, though nowadays it is more humbly known for producing the prime youths the Space-Time Administration Bureau desires to fill their growing ranks. The sense of adventure, the warrior's blood, the search for glory and riches has always been strong here, though the Bureau would wish that our youths were not so enterprising.

We lived a good three hundred miles away from Cranagan. The nearest community was the town of Little Venezia, an opulent harbor town that is the smaller cousin and sister of the much grander Neo-Venezia in the Kingdom of Sapin. Favoring the same architecture and panache, the best way to get around town through its canals was by gondolas or motorized waterbuses (_vaporetti_). Of course, the town was far from boring, as it was something of a tourist resort as well, who's reputation was only boosted by the flux of the exotic Undine trainees, whom were quite popular too, understandably. I think they spent anywhere from a summer to a year here, before moving onto Neo-Venezia itself, depending on their ability and evaluations by their supervisors.

And I suspected there would be a long outing to Little Venezia for shopping and womanly things, soon, for which I can only sigh as I await the inevitable doom.

There was no set path to the estate, as per tradition and security reasons. Of course, with modern convenience and magic, it was easy to spot its location from the air, but for a land bound force, the woods -- could prove difficult, and a different set of challenges awaited those who would fly. An ancient magic, a pact from the days when the _faerie_ still walked in our world, protected the land and our ancestral home itself. As such, the land that my "house" sat upon tended to move around, paths through the wood would never remain the same; a curiosity, too, that was shared even by the _manse_ itself, with rooms being added, removed, and decorated seemingly on a whim.

Everything seemed to or could be alive, for a fact. Therefore, I cannot say how big our land was, or much land we owned, truly. How we came to possess even such a place is a lost story that even today our family historians seek to discover among many other mysteries. I was glad, simply, that the woods this night were in a good mood for they were going well out of their way to create an expedient path for our landspeeder to reach the estate. For her part, Ryuune was astounded, practically glued to her passenger window, that the trees and bushes were moving on their own accord, while J.P. attempted to give her an explanation to the phenomenon she was witnessing.

Soon, Mother Nature gave way to land tamed by the sweat and genius from the brow of mortals. A road of enchanted blue granite (so as to protect it from the elements and keep it always spotless) soon revealed itself to us, gleaming in the headlights of the landspeeder. The path wound and bent through a seemingly perilous course, but with J.P.'s superhuman cognition, it was child's play for him to maneuver us without decelerating at all. It was like being in a theme park thrill ride, with the craft banking sharply here and there, as the landspeeder negotiated the corners and lines.

As expected, Ryuune was having a ball with the entire situation, whereas I could only pray we would arrive in one piece; not that I did not have confidence in J.P.'s proficiency, he was a valet droid for Mystra's sake, but I would have liked to skip out on all these playful formalities. Thankfully, the wood seemed to sense my urgency, and soon, the way forest gave way to our own land.

The road of blue granite phased over into pure white marble, as our estate became visible. As the present head of the House, the estate presently reflected my grandmother, Morgan Le Fay's tastes. The driveway leading up to the _manse_ was lined with multiple _torii_ (a distinctive archway design she picked up from a book..._That Man_...brought her before I was born) lit by a plethora of paper lanterns of various. According to her, the reason for the archways was to separate "the world without from the world within", which I think means she intended for these _torii_ to be a gateway that would seclude our little hamlet away from the worries of the outside world. Whether it has any practical benefit I do not know for certain.

Once past the hundred gates, a new landscaped terrace became visible to us; our "front lawn", if you could all it that, was somewhere between a garden and a mall. It was illuminated during this time of year by _magick_'d will-o-wisps, in-season fire flies, and more decorative paper lanterns (a touch added by Mother, who was inspired by an illustrated travel novel brought by..._That Man_), that gradually led up to the front courtyard of the _manse_. A grand reflecting pool in the shape of a longsword was the centerpiece, right down the middle, to which the gardens radiated out to either side.

The intent I think was to inspire an air of solemnity, but also reflection, for it is from this "sword" that so much lies at stake. Nothing would have been possible had not a brave few chosen to take on the heavy mantle of command, to put all responsibilities and obligations, upon their small shoulders and lead us onwards into the unknown tomorrow. They were the first heroes; the first pioneers, and to them, we owe a great debt.

"Let us pray we shall never forget that we stand today, upon the shoulders of giants who came before. And some day, they of tomorrow will be standing upon ours as well."

In comparison to the terrace garden, the _manse_ itself was much less ostentatious, I think. Of course, we had everything you could expect from an "Old Blood" home: an attached conservatory, an observatory, an infinity pool, an integrated private library, a stables in the backyard, a chapel, built-in domotics for all structures, and so on. The _manse_ presented an interesting contrast with the eastern influence of the _torii_ for it was something purely western in design. The Sapin Renaissance from the early fifteenth century (in the old calendar) influenced its Beaux-Arts architectural style.

Such a rich background was apparent in its five stories worth: symmetrical alignment around our central Great Hall, a hierarchy of spaces, references to a synthesis of historicist styles, and a given tendency to eclecticism. Also, there was the subtle use of polychromy evident in the materials that composed the structure: brick, concrete, limestone, marble, platinum leaf wall panels, terra cotta royal blue roof tiles, and wrought iron for the sculpted rails and fences. Of course, there was also the precision in design and execution of a profusion of architectural details, such as balustrades for example.

All right, I take it back. The _manse_ is even more opulent than the terrace gardens, which should not have been surprising since Beaux-Arts architecture is said to be "the opulent bastard of all styles". I believe, Grandmother had dubbed this particular incarnation of our home "The Breakers", for in the time of her father it lived a different existence altogether.

We pulled in shortly thereafter into the reception courtyard. Keeping with the theme, more paper lanterns and whimsical will-o-wisps, whom only came out at night, lit the area and the great steps leading to the towering vault-like double doors. They were composed of beautiful, rich rosewood, and ornately priceless in artistry, engraved with roses and vines intertwined through a chain link of swords and frolicking fairies. The painstakingly polished door handles were bronzium things fashioned symbolically to depict a wolf sitting on its haunches with a falcon perched on its shoulder: one watched over the land, while the other gazed up and beyond the horizon to the stars.

"By Lady Luck, now that's what I call a real _magifolk_'s atelier," Ryuune gaped in awe, clearly impressed by the wealth and power on display. "Just how many people live here, Harlaown? And just what are you exactly? I had the feeling you were rich, but all this? It seems more like you're royalty or some seriously well off -- warrior clan, if you think it the Mandalorian way, yeah."

I entertained her question to the best of my ability, as I popped the passenger hatch and stepped into the refreshingly cooler and ambient night air. Perhaps, it was the congestion of the city that had been making us feel so hot, but then again, the land could be working its own _magick _to make us more so at home. She followed me out promptly, along with J.P., though he waved us off to fetch our belongings, which were few and easily handled by him, while we mounted the flight of stairs.

"Well, I imagine, it could house my entire House if need be, but occasions where all of the Le Fay have been present are few and far between. Childbirths and weddings are held here in accordance tradition, so that the children and the spouses will be recognized by the land, but even then, not everyone is necessarily in attendance. We are a busy people, after all, and the galaxy always has more work for us."

"Uh-huh."

"As for your other question: the royal houses in this land have long since passed away. Only the noble houses, us descendants of the Old Blood remain from the days of antiquity and legend. Methinks, you can say we are similar to the Mandalorian Clans, though our actual work pertains to more than just the Art of War."

"Ah ha ha, there you go again with that so right an' high-n-mighty speech again," she laughed, giving me a playful jab to the shoulder. "But I'll let it slide this time. So, just **what **does your family do, _My Lordship_?"

The suggestive emphasis in her voice caught me a little off guard, though it paled in comparison to her general mood. I never imagined Ryuune Zoldark was the type who could even be sociable and congenial. I carried on, trying to hide my bewildered blush, "Everything to the best of my knowledge. We have a little hand everywhere, though we are most famous for our warriors and sages. Being who we are is not a simple matter, I assure you."

"Oh?"

"We shall speak more inside. But before we pass through these doors, I ask that you please steal your resolve and suspend your sense of disbelief."

The Corellian gave me a wry, incredulous look, as if I had grown a second a head and a third leg out of my mouth.

"_Chrono_, whatever you got going inside, there's no way I'm gonna freak over it. This place is the real deal, I know. Ancient wizarding family's estate and the whole nine yards. I came fully expecting there to be some freaky weirdness going on. It can't be that bad."

I sighed, wondering if I had failed her somehow, but she had a firm, fiery look in her blue eyes that she would not be deterred otherwise with sensible caution. It seemed I had no choice but to break her in the hard way.

"_Lasciate ogne speranza_, _voi ch_'_intrate_."

"Huh? Lactate-what?"

"Excuse me!?"

"Ah ha ha ha! S-Sorry, anyway, serious! Whad'dya say just now? Some kind of local dialect, right?"

"Y-Yes. High Gothic."

"And...?"

"I, erm, it means: _Abandon all hope_, _ye who enter here_. And I say this with good reason too because this mansion -- is a creature of _Chaos_. Within its walls, its insides can take on many forms, obeying an order and logic, completely alien and beyond our comprehension. I pray you are _prepared_, Ryuune of Corellia."

"**Bring it**, fraidee-fairy! I'd be a _drokkin_' bitch of a nerfherding, rear echelon _bantha _fodder to go spacecase over a little stroll in _The Wyrd_."

Oh, Mystra, I sense a long night coming...

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.16 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas.

As for what I got to say about it, well, it's a transition chapter, and the inspiration homage bug definitely hit. Blame Mass Effect (the scenes on the Citadel), the vistas from newer Star Wars flicks, Blade Runner, and a little Harry Potter on the side. I was trying to capture that sense of a moving landscape, instead of jumping you all around from point to point, which would have been a total artistic let down. Also, I was trying to capture that kinda nostalgic feeling of coming home again for the after you have been away for practically a year. I apologize if it did not come across very well, but I hope the chapter at least was entertaining and insightful.

Next couple of episodes are going to be pretty light-hearted and mainly catching up with the family and Nature. I did introduce this version of Chrono practically out of the blue, so we'll be getting to see more about the forces that shaped him into the kid who sold his soul away to the military at just five cycles and some months of age. Pretty much, you can expect to see lots of comedy, drama, WAFF, lots of Lindy, and a whole bunch of character insight and development, before we head back to school and hit the fast forward button to the next Big Event.

Look forward to it and thank you for your responses to the last episode.

Now, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

With that said, thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	17. Entry 1 17: Sweet Home

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.17:

Home Sweet Home

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

"I am home!"

* * *

My voice seemed to echo into eternity. Most people would think my statement a mere analogy, but I do not jest, for to enter into the threshold of our foyer would already give the visitor open clearance to breathtaking vision of eternity -- "The Living Record". Evidence have long since been lost as to who built it or what purpose it served, originally. Perhaps, it is better we mortals of today do not understand the workings of our ancestors for the hall is a certified _Lost Logia_, which we the House of Le Fay are the sole stewards.

What is this "eternity" exactly? Picture: the universe, a great expanse of space and time filled, with spiraling galaxies, an innumerable plethora of lights, and the primordial dark matter and dark energies… Imagine, all of that mass and godly immensity condensed and controlled into a three-dimensional rectangular "pool" that is then this hall, where all manner of cosmic phenomena can be observed at will. To the eye, the human imagination, this place is liken to a planetarium bridged by tens upon thousands of glittering tiles, forming "roads" and "stairs" in any order: right side up, upside down, sideways, inverted, and spiraling, which aligned to form Penrose figures and Moebius strips.

These would then lead to new passages, closed doors, gates, or open rooms, whose contents were visible. In fact, there was even furniture, scattered here and there amongst the stars in all manner of positions. What constituted as "right side up" was entirely relative to the observer. What do I mean? Well, it is difficult to explain for I am trying to describe an "Impossible Space", which is constructed entirely of "Impossible Objects" that are tessellated repeatedly to form these paths through the stars. Incidentally, balconies and landings are formed by the geometry of these junctions.

What is an "Impossible Object" you ask next? The textbook definition states, "a type of optical illusion created by a two-dimensional figure that is instantly and subconsciously interpreted by the brain's visual system as representing a projection of a three-dimensional object, although it is not actually possible for such an object to exist."

Ah ha ha, I have probably confused you all even more, so I will spare you my words and give you the best physical example there is: look up the lithograph _Relativity_ by M.C. Escher.

Now, with careful examination, one will notice that the tiles themselves are special, containing images, still and moving, of scenes and faces, people and places, events, voices, music, poetry; for they are a record: "Living Memory". The Record is a magical place, a reality obeying laws that most of us who have never flown, who have spent our lives walking on the ground, will find extreme difficulty in reconciling with our own normality. For those of us who have gone above and beyond, it is clearly the ultimate expression of an "Overlooking View": dangerous and beautifully seductive at once.

With that said, what do I mean by an "Overlooking View"? Well, it would be best to quote the analysis of a certain peculiar, "doll making" sorceress, who visited our estate a long time ago, from which her words began with: "What does a view from a high place remind you of? The impulse you feel when you look down at the world you live in. A violent cognition that attacks you even if you refuse it. An emotion created by an overlooking view."

"The answer is: **Far**. The scenery you see from a high place is magnificent. Even an ordinary landscape looks beautiful."

This sentiment holds especially true here in the Living Record, which composed our great hall, for any scenery can be conjured at will, or even unbidden, by the observer. The scene observed is unique to each and every individual's desire. In my case, I see the universe.

"But a vision that is too large creates a boundary between you and the world. It is more correct for you to recognize the large world you see as the world you live in rather than as the small space around you. But, you cannot feel that you are living in this big world no matter how hard you try."

With that remembered, perhaps, this scene, this temptation...

"Your reasoning, represented by your knowledge, and your experience, represented by your realization, will clash against each other. And eventually, you will lose yourself and confusion will begin. And then..."

...is dangerous to both kinds of people I have mentioned. In fact, it should hold, still, a fatal attraction, even to me, for I am beholden to the highest view of all. Hmm...

The sorceress went on to say, seemingly as a word of warning to my forbearers then:

"Vision is not what your eyes see, but an image that your brain comprehends. Our vision is protected by our common sense. Sentients cannot live outside their box...under normal circumstances."

In conclusion, the artifact we bear witness to as of this instant has and always will be a dangerous temptation. I have heard my fair share of melancholic tales concerning our family members, past and present, taking -- _the fall _-- and never coming back: men, women, children, and the elderly. Though the reason was not fully understood, until the sorceress paid us a visit, even to today we still _fall_. It is the rarely spoken reason, kept secret understandably: why only a select few of us reside here at the Breakers, why visitors are few and far (kept under strict supervision), and why our household staff here is primarily droids. Countless times opponents and officials from inside the Bureau have tried to take custody of the artifact, but such a feat is impossible, for the thing itself is immovable, and we, too, have strongly dissuaded such radical action.

Then again, you could say we have already been fatally seduced by the Living Record, and simply, refuse to hand it over to anyone else. It is our treasure, our curse, and a legacy that has been with us, since the old days.

"... _Aaa_!" came a mewling cry of distress suddenly, breaking me out from my contemplations.

I whirled about to my side to find no one there. A jetwash of cold fear assaulted me a second later, my breath catching in my strangled throat, as I stared wide-eyed at Ryuune Zoldark already standing at the edge of the precipice, silhouetted against the majestic "illusion". Questions of when and how bombarded my reeling mind, paralysis, a dire crisis of inaction. Luckily, the body knew what it had to do, guided perhaps by the other "Me", for I broke into a dead sprint, and all else was forgotten, shouting:

"RYUUNE. DON'T GO."

Like the calm before the storm, all became quiet, and cruelly, as if the Gods meant to taunt, a strong gale suddenly whipped through knocking our covers off. There was a flash of blonde-hair fluttering in the howling wind, the scene heartbreakingly magical, and I was so close, heart ringing in my ears, face flushed, bounding, almost flying with my strides. I never thought I could run so fast in my life.

And then, she fell.

"_Godsbane_!"

The roar of my expletive alone would have been sufficient to substitute for the bark of a blaster shot. Training, white hot adrenaline, and instinct took over, as I saw red and dropped back into a falling slide, twisting my upper body out and forwards, and trusting that my momentum would carry me well enough across the smooth tiled floor. The impact was rough, back and shoulder screaming in protest with a twist, but I slid as I hoped, and thrust out my hands: one for the falling girl about to disappear from my slowed sight, and the other...

It was a nigh-impossible gambit I hoped to win, with everything to lose, sharpening my focus to a finished gleaming edge. The privilege of setting new memories here in the space of living memory was and still is a thing granted only to us, who have been born to its attraction. Normally, the process requires much time and effort, for it is a magical feat that requires the individual to remember, extract, recreate, and bind the memory they wished to impart to the record that would create a new "tile" in permanence.

If done improperly, for the ritual in itself was an art form, the tile would be temporary at best, and at worst, a hazardous, fragile thing that could break with the slightest exertion. The result would be a plunge down into the unknown, triggered by the cascading effect of a single defective tile. I, unfortunately, had no such luxury, grabbing the memories I could, intense things, and ignited my circuits, not so much pumping out the _mana_ but expelling it forcefully from my body. Colorful brilliant magic circles, runes, and symbols lit up at once, responding in kind to my behest to produce a glittering "road" amongst the stars.

**CLAP**.

Honestly, I had no idea how I caught them both, for my own attention was focused on the sorcery to create the road from which we hanged, drearily. The other "Me", apparently so, had my eyes on the falling Corellian girl, and with uncommon swiftness, had reached out to pluck her out from certain doom, snatching her up by the wrist. What I did not expect was the violence of the sudden -- shock, more or less, of being pulled in two separate directions. A painful numbing ache spread through bone, ligaments, and muscle stretched to dangerous limit that manifested upon my straining face in a pitiable snarl.

I could feel the veins and arteries popping out, as the wind blew by like mocking giggles, and a sweet, distant voice whispering insidiously for me to let go -- to _fall_. What was the use in struggling? Inevitable. I could not possibly lift up both the girl and myself, especially in my...

_Cough_.

...weakened condition. Blood: I tasted the coppery, acrid stuff in my mouth, as I felt my body temperature rise unnaturally, seeing double, and the sweltering heat clouding over my thoughts. Cir-cuit-s in the red...? Lin-ker Core unres-pon...just a cool _emptiness_. Not good. Not good at a-ll...

"Z-Zoldark! H-Hey! Zoldark!" I spat out, hoping against despair I could still make it time. In the corner of my eye, I could already see the far end of the road breaking apart and disintegrating with a wailing, violent whiplash, and the cataclysm was heading our way _fast_.

She did not respond at all. She just hung there limply, like a broken doll. What in the Mysteries could she have seen? Still, it was unlikely I would ever found out for my heart sank faster than a Star Destroyer going under in grim resignation. I had not expected trouble to strike so close to home, just when I thought I was out of the woods, and naively let my guard down. Not only would it be my own life that would pay the fine but my friend as well.

It was unacceptable. It was not fair. This kind of impossible situation! I should have prepared better. How could I be so soft? Regret. Regret. Regret! I did not even know what manner of death awaited down there in the infinity of my vision. What I saw was the universe, therefore, did it mean I would die in the absolute zero of space, a frozen cadaver drifting endlessly in the void between stars and planets? Ironic, for I was just bemoaning such a doom, and now, it would likely come true in a matter moments.

_Ugh_, if only...

"Why?"

What?

"Why? Why did you interfere with our fun? We were just offering that wretched child what she wanted, at but a little expense, _hu hu hu hu hu_."

A voice? From where? Its resonating deep, a woman's voice, whimsical and lilting, all the way in my bones.

"You have always been so...ah, what is this? _Tsk_, _tsk_, this won't do. This won't do at all. You have forgotten how to dream, haven't you? Boring. _Dull_. **Child**."

I must be hallucinating, so I told myself, as another harsh round of wet, bloodied coughs caught me in their claws. My doubled vision flecked with black and red, darkening, clear signs I was about to lose consciousness. It was so difficult to breathe, and I had to wonder if I were drowning right then from blood filling up in my lungs. After all, was it not so that my old wounds, which I thought had been healed, were reopening this very moment?

"But just as well: shall we find out for ourselves, if you can really fly, _Wonderful Boy_?"

The tile in my death grip clouded over and began to crack, hairline splinters growing into wide fractures, as the crumbling catastrophe closed in for the kill. To add salt to festering wounds, the memory, seemingly a thing of glass, I held in my hand was none other of Ryuune smiling, just an hour ago back at the aerospace port, searing itself into recollection, for soon, I saw nothing but black and red. There was sharp pain, like shards ripping into my hand, and something else cutting across my brow; a sensation of being blown away by force. Funny; it was not supposed to be this way came the melancholic thought...

_Mother_.

I fell.

* * *

A bone fragmenting?

A spark igniting its last gasp?

No, a _star_, a shooting star slicing through the night.

* * *

"Ah, he's..."

H-huh...?

"Sire..."

It's too...

"Low...do-sage..."

_Gasp_.

"EEG, EKG, blood pressure, and respiration pattern stabilizing: _nominal _status. Good," warbled something harsh and digitized. Was it a voice? Masculine...with a kind of...

_Ugh_, I wish it was not so, but the sensory overload seemed after being awakened from the blackness of unconscious seemed to be ongoing trend in my life. The lights were unbelievably bright to my eyes, forcing me to squint and seethe, as more feeling returned in place of the receding numbness. Irritating pinpricks rose all across my goose-bumped flesh, the feel of fluid, and I surmised correctly I was partially submerged in some manner of a bath.

"Good morning, Little Master, much better now, yes?" a voice spoke in something of a intelligible warble. It was masculine, I think.

Why was it so hard to hear?

Then, I realized my ears were submerged below the "water" line, so naturally, I tried to sit up but found myself unable to do so. It was not restraints. Someone had the genius to put me under with a significant dosage of anesthesia, and had awakened me, likely, with the aid of stimulants. Somewhat miffed, I then turned my attention to the speaker: two metallic, one off-white and the other a dull greenish-gunmetal, figures took shapes slowly through the blur of light.

What were they called again?

"D-Droi-ds?" I blubbered out lethargically. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton; jaws and tongue clumsy, making speaking intelligibly a substantial effort, much to my wonder.

The one to my right, the white one answered first, "Oh? You sound surprised."

"I wa-was exp-pecting to... B-Be gree-ting my ances-tors about n-now."

"Please, you are much too young, is that not right, Doctor?" the droid nodded to his colleague, an unusually human behavior.

"Came close enough," grunted the green one, in a harsh tone I recognized from earlier. The quality of his voice seemed to best describe that of an old man chastising the youth for their inexperience, and cursing his luck for being unable to leave them alone. "Never heard of a six cycle old pup already managing to break a _Taboo_."

Wh-What in...! I broke a _Taboo_?

"Now, do not give him any ideas, Doctor. Contrary to his looks, he is an impressionable young man, and besides, he bears no stigma. It is an unfound, debased statement to say he broke a Taboo."

"I have seen enough in my time before that one's father requisitioned me permanently for the staff here at the Le Fay's estate. The carbons did **insane **things during the war, and _Rebound Phenomena_ is well founded as one of the many symptoms of _Rule Breaking_. The fact, he does not bear a stigma now is an ill-omen that this will be but the first of many occasions he will bring himself to the edge of no return, or perhaps, it is there and we are just too stupid to notice."

"Nonsense, nonsense," laughed the white one, waving off the other's dark prognosis cheerily. "Obviously, it is the fault of the healers back at the Battle School for not informing him they were using an Unrestricted Continuous Healing Array on him, without his knowledge. Therefore, when _mana_ ceased to flow, his newer wounds and the older ones all opened up at once. Therefore, your theory of _Rebound Phenomenon_ is in error. It is all very logical, see?"

Green One hummed, pulling back his arm as the scanner returned an affirmative chime, "_Aahh_, I will not argue with a stubborn _valet_, just let the Dame know that I will release the Young Master this evening. Three days, and two nights..._ugh_! Follow my instructions and he should recover well, though I worry..."

"Doctor, you _always _worry. It is at the core of your very personality matrix!"

The medical droid (I came to realize now) switched to a string of expletives caustic bleeps and squeaks in droidspeak, a sign that his proverbial feathers may have been ruffled, before swaggering away disgruntled from the haze of the light. I was left alone in the company of the off-white one, whose colors became more pronounced, white and blue actually, as my recovered at last, allowing me to identify him.

"J.P.?"

I should not have been surprised to see him, for aside from his valet duties, Jean-Pierre was, in fact, my personal attendant for as far as, well, I could remember.

"Ah, good to hear you recognize me," he chirped. If he had lips behind that faceless visor, I suppose, the droid would have smiled.

"Then, that must have been Old Bronzeside."

Old Bronzeside is a 2-1B series surgical droid and our household's resident physician. His disgruntled, elderly personality played a part in his name, but also the old weathered bronzium plating of his humanoid hull, with its many internal components visible through a translucent torso sheath. He always did manage to disturb me in a peculiar manner because of the skeletal "Death's Head" design of his head reminded me more of a messenger of death than an angel of redemption here to save my life from disease and harm. Frankly, just what were the designers at Geentech Corporation thinking when they designed the 2-1B series? Could they not have at least made the droids more aesthetically -- salutary to one's health?

"Now, Little Master," J.P. asked me all of a sudden, breaking me loose from my ruminations, "did _anyone _forbid you from strenuous activities or otherwise using magic, when you left the Battle School?"

I frowned, of course, as I came to recall that particular detail. How in the Mysteries had the droid figured to ask a question like that?

"Er...yes."

"Oh, well that answers a few suspicions and confirms a few theories. _Blip-blip-bweeop_, _dree-drii_-_whoo_! Your recklessness is inherited surely from your father."

I think, he meant such a comparison in flattery, but to me, it sounded more like a condemnation. The unexplained resentment I felt towards -- _That Man_ -- reared its ugly head, like a serpent standing up, but thankfully, the anesthesia deterred me from expressing myself. I changed the subject with a question of my own: who saved me and...?

"Your Mother saved you and Miss Zoldark, of course."

"...Ah, I see," I let out a sigh of relief, "thank goodness."

"She was quite distraught," he added, "though she hid it well, but I could detect the subtle tension in her body language. I wonder, if she dared to burn this very house down. Ah ha ha, fortunately, she put such foolishness aside. After all, she had her own patient to take care of, though my logic circuits presume she would have been quite happy to burn down the _manse_, if given the opportunity otherwise, for a little old fashioned revenge."

"If she was the same woman she was, almost a year ago, J.P.," I countered a touch testily, "And what do you mean by her patient?"

"Apologies," the droid held up his hands in open supplication to emphasize his sincerity. It was a characteristic of Jean-Pierre to exaggerate as a means of compensating for his lack of a face, and of course, I knew he meant no offense, but Mother is and was a touchy subject for me. Then again, for most boys (and perhaps girls) who were raised, more or less, by their loving mothers and had less than a stellar relationship with their patriarch, such a circumstance produced an individual who was fiercely loyal and protective to the former.

"As for your inquiry, that would be Miss Zoldark, and together, they have been inseparable in the past few days. The girl was _damaged_, mentally (I think), by the experience. Trauma from whatever it was she saw, her actions, her own helplessness, and the fallout from that left quite a scar on her ego. She is a very headstrong, proud child, demonstrably, Little Master."

_Ugh_, thank you much so for letting me know how badly I have ruined our little academic vacation, _my servant_.

"Your welcome any time, _mi_'_lord_."

Note to self: sarcasm sucks and voicing your thoughts aloud unconsciously is embarrassing.

"On the bright side, I think, the Dame has taken a supreme liking to the Zoldark girl. Something about: '_She is so cute_!' or other..."

Oh, great; what a...well, methinks, I can agree on that...

* * *

I was obliged to sleep in the _bacta _bath, until evening; Doctor's orders you understand. Old Bronzeside made it a point to reinforce the standing orders of my previous physician on top of his own recommendations, meaning no strenuous activity, no heavy lifting, no heroics, and certainly, no magic. If I dared to renege whilst I am within the grounds of the estate, he swore he would come hunt me down personally, and no amount moral rhetoric would soften his wrath.

Honestly, I think he was dramatizing a bit, as I myself had no taste for another brush with death, after my recent encounter. Losing three days and two nights over it already set me back quite a bit on my tentative plans, considering the precious limited time we had left to spend. Of course, now dressed in a suitable change of clothes and freshly showered in an effort to get that sickly sweet scent of _bacta_ off me, my stomach asserted its right of way, making the first order of business tonight to find something to eat.

I could not agree more.

However, if you thought the great hall to _The Breakers_ was bizarre enough, the rest of the _manse_ will throw you in for another loop. The floor plan of the building changes on a daily basis: rooms being reshuffled, redecorated from various Eastern to Western styles, repainted, furniture moved around, etc. Going to bed the previous night close to the entrance of a wing can land you waking up the next morning, walking out into the hallway, and discovering yourself the full length away from where you began. Personally, I think, it is most vexing when you discover your bathroom has changed to a barebones tub and a shoddy outhouse from the deluxe Jacuzzi and multi-port shower just the night prior.

The real question anyone sane must be asking right now: is how in the Mysteries can a mansion be "alive"? Better yet, how can you stand to live in one? That is abnormal!

For those of us magically inclined, the first question is answered easily enough, for it was an extension of the _Lost Logia_'s powers, the same one that occupies the great hall. You see, the entirety of my home is, in fact, its anchor; therefore, the phenomenon of warping space extends throughout every building and addition we have made to the _manse_ over time. Of course, it takes time for the new "extremities" to be assimilated into the greater whole of the household, so for a time these structures are safe from the whims of _The Breakers_. Naturally, like the great hall, an element of danger is present as consequence in the interior of my home, for it is possible to open a door and find yourself walking out into empty space, falling to your doom from four stories up.

Thus, guests are not to be left alone or unattended, within good reason. Family members visiting or residing here should at least have the company of the many companionable droids in service at the estate. Even for the Mistress of the house, my dear Grandmother, who serves as a living anchor of sanity, creativity, and reason to _The Breakers_, it is not recommend for her to be alone either. Contrary to the views of skeptics, the _manse_ **is** a living, breathing creature with a mind so foreign and convoluted that it deserves, truly, the title of _Xeno_, the Alien.

I suppose, anyone else with a pure, sane bone in their body would order an orbital bombardment to raze the grounds down to atoms. Such an action, though, would require substantial firepower, not to mention political will, as Lost Technology is not easily destroyed both because of its innate masterpiece resiliency and because of the will of those who covet their power. In our case, we were too rational, lost too much, and already seduced to be willing to destroy the Record.

That should answer number two, but if you are looking for a personal response from myself: well, I always thought it was normal, not having anything else to compare to what constituted "normalcy". The act of living in an environment where there was no element of danger at all would have been abnormal to me, for I have trained myself since a young age to condition myself to a near constant vigil. The only time I would ever sleep soundly was when I knew there was another presence in the room to keep me company, whom I could trust to act within my expectations.

Yes, the same applied to my time back in Atlas, and yes, I actually do trust Nagi Dai Artai because thanks to his infatuation with me I can believe he will not attempt to smother me to death or chuck me out the window in my sleep. Such acts would run utterly contrary to his bombastic, dastardly antics; for him, it was not enough to play someone for the fool. He had to get the full notoriety and credit for the act too, otherwise, the huge time and energy the prince of the north put in would be meaningless to him.

Such are the eccentricities of the partially insane...

Anyways, Jean-Pierre accompanied me through the exuberant halls, filled with moving life-like portraits and scenery, just like old times, for only the droids possessed something of a reliable on-board map of the _manse_. Many of the animated occupants and beasties still recognized me, in spite of the passage of time, and I hailed them back in return, out of good courtesy. It was heartening but at the same time saddening, for some day I would have to part ways with them all, and be forced to reintroduce myself when I returned.

I learned from him the time was quite late in the evening already, as the fireflies and will-o-wisps were out visibly in full force through the windows in the wane moonlight. Ryuune Zoldark had been put to bed sometime ago, so I would have to hold off on my "kiss and make up time" (whatever that means) until later. Luckily for myself, the grand kitchen at _The Breakers_ never closes and is open twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, and 365 days in a year to best accommodate our needs. There is always at least one droid on stand-by with a culinary "talent", though arguably, the most adored darling of the kitchens had to be "Santa Madeleine", a GH-7 series medical analysis unit manufactured by the Chiewab Amalgamated Pharmaceuticals Company.

She, too, came into our service and similarly received various upgrades well before I was born, and assisted, in fact, with my own birth into the world, alongside Old Bronzeside those five years ago. You can say they are both my godparents, then again, I have way too many to count off all the fingers I have on hand and feet, half of whom are droids and the rest "carbons". I suppose, growing up around such logical influences attuned me naturally to be more introverted and purposeful, contributing to my childhood precociousness.

Oh, and yes, to answer your curiosity, aside from myself, Mother, Grandmother, and Grandfather, most of the "people" who actually live here, besides the magical things, are droids. Methinks, you all ought to have thought of a few conspiracy theories right away from such a "colossal" statement. I will assure you, though, it is primarily an issue of practicality; the droids are the true stewards of the estate, and the only ones somewhat immune to the effects of _The Living Record_. Inherently being logical machines, despite of our upgrades, they are also very tolerable of _The Breaker_'s eccentricities, soldiering on without complaint.

"Well, here we are, Little Master," Jean-Pierre gestured with a thin, dexterous limb towards a non-descript door, as we at last arrived.

I gave a moment pause for contemplation, eyeing the shoddily white-painted door that stood out brazenly, in fact, because of its plainness. I knew our dining hall, too, was subject to the whims of the _manse_, like everything else in our home; therefore, to have something so ordinary present in a locale of luxury and eccentricity could only mean trouble, according to my instincts. The doorknob alone felt frigid to the touch.

"Go on, go on! Your meal should be ready within half an hour."

I favored my retainer a flat look.

"Madeleine is a perfectionist as always," he went on without missing a beat, "and refuses to serve meals that lack the peculiar human spontaneity, even though the ladies insist she has outstripped both of their skills, easily."

"Will you not join me? I do believe it is custom," I told him, managing to keep the wary tone out of my voice.

Then again, it was impossible to fool our droids, with little tricks like that...

"But who is going to serve your meal, Little Master? Honestly, you should be more thoughtful of the operations occurring this very micron. The staff cannot afford to spare a member when so many tasks must be accomplished on a daily basis to ensure the upkeep..."

"Fine, fine, fine," I waved him off with a sigh, "I entreat you, do not lecture me to death."

"Excellent! I will return shortly. Please, enjoy your evening, Little Master."

With a bow, Jean-Pierre trotted off, nearly at a run. If he had been born a sentient carbon, specifically of the human or near-human species, I imagine, he would have been looking quite smug.

"Oh well, no time like the present to find out a _pleasant_ surprise."

I sighed and opened the door.

...

And was immediately blasted by a blizzard of white, freezing spray, and storm force winds, the air ripped from my lungs, as I exhaled in sharp surprise, a novice's mistake. Overwhelmed and unprepared, I made the second mistake of closing my eyes, and before I could even think, something reached out; big powerful paws (clawed judging from the pricks I felt) gripped my shoulders. There was not even a chance to scream for a second set of paws found their way to my mouth and face. The blizzard drowning out effectively my struggle, as the door slammed shut behind me and I was spirited off into the howling tundra.

...

This is why I hate _pleasant _surprises.

* * *

"Welcome home!"

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.17 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. I will say _The Garden of Sinners_ movie 1, the xxxHolic movie, and a bunch of other stuff played a big part in inspiring this chapter. I apologize if everything did not come off right, but I ain't J.K. Rowling, and creating a magical "house" is actually pretty hard work. On the other hand, I hope you all enjoyed the character development and the fluff. I promise there will be WAFF next episode to make up for the decidedly lack of it in this one.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!

This episode is dedicated to George Carlin (May 12, 1937 to June 22, 2008), comedian, satirist, and Thinking Man. The world has become stupider, more boring, and surely duller without him. He will be missed.


	18. Entry 1 18: Mother and Son

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.18:

Mother and Son

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

I let out a bewildered yelp when I found myself hurled, abruptly in flight and helpless, before gravity took over, returning me to earth like any other falling body. Alas, I was no rock, so predictably, a mild grunt of pain escaped my lips upon myself receiving a heart to heart with the floor. The impact, though, was not that bad in reality, with plenty of the energy being dissipated throughout the soft, textured -- _straw_?

Opening my eyes, I confirmed my suspicion that the material was straw, indeed, but had been woven into a mat uniform in shape and size, packed with more of the earthly stuff, and a brocade of blue silken cloth. A quick look around revealed I was in a room, probably a foyer judging from the furniture arrayed about, dimly lit but somewhat serviceable with the presence of a lone blue paper lantern. The sound of a metal bolt ramming home with a click of finality from the other side of the wooden door I had come through let me know I would be here awhile.

"Hello? Is someone there?" a muffled voice came through the walls.

It was a woman's voice, I am certain -- _gyeh_! _Brrr_...more importantly, I am freezing in here! Mind you, it was nowhere near as cold back in Atlas, but due to my present casual dress, the temperature different was biting straight through the fabric. Then again, maybe it was just as cold for I saw glimmers of frost and ice in the corners of the room.

Hurriedly, I rose up to my feet, breaths misting over in vapor clouds as I hopped and skipped, tuck my hands into my armpits to reduce heat loss. That woman... I hope she was not just my imagination and not helpless either. She would be my best ticket out of here. _Ugh_, the troubles I go through around here for a bite to eat!

"Yes! I am here," I shouted at the top of my lungs. "I cannot see very well, bad lighting...nothing that looks like a door on my side!"

"Oh? _Oh_! Just a second then," replied the woman's voice. Her bubbly giggle was audible to my ears, despite the walls between us. Something about its quality felt eerily familiar. Certainly, I ought to know this person, but who...?

Right in front of me, a section of the "walls" slid open, revealing itself to be a sliding door. It was not that well disguised, actually, but I had not been able to spot the handles prior with the poor lighting. The latter issue solved by a fresh influx of light from the adjoining room, which was not too bright or else I would have winced and perhaps missed the appearance of the individual before me.

Then again...

"CHRONO, MY DEAREST BOY, MOMMY'S SWEET DARLING!"

...I would have to be deaf and blind to miss the encroaching descent of the cyan-haired force of nature, who was intent on embracing (read: smothering) me in a warm, beautiful annihilation of love (specifically: the unconditional kind). Turtle neck sweaters and a warming quilt were great defenses against the chill, and..._BOIN_! Ahem, I mean..._BOIN_! Ermm, pardon me. I think I was suffocating from too much passionate maternal doting (or love, take your pick) at the time. Ah, thank Mystra I can breathe again... Oh crap, now I am being assaulted with "embarrassment by one hundred kisses". Please, don't eat me.

"M-Mother, _gah_, I en-treat, _argh_, you: calm thy, _ack_, self!" I pleaded with her, in a helpless tone.

I do not know how it was possible, but Mother seemed to have grown more beautiful, since I last met her in person, over half a year ago. Time and some (unexpected) happiness, methinks, has acted as a healing salve upon the gaping wound left behind in the death of -- _That Man_. As long as I could remember, she had a certain radiance about her that had been missing until now. It was a free spirit of character, which animated everything around her, and made the every day just a little more extraordinary. How so? Well, picture a green grass plain or a golden field of wheat, not terribly impressive by itself, but add a wind to it, and suddenly it comes to life, like a river or sea, does it not? That's the kind of "extraordinary", I mean; always in motion and full of life.

"No way!" she sang, giggling gleefully, "This is the least you deserve for making Mommy so worried, sweetie!"

Grandmother had many tales and anecdotes to speak of, when it came to her many attempts to tame the free spirit of my mother. In her youth, she had been a borderline spitfire, chaffing constantly at the chains of obligation and social etiquette demanded of a woman born into high society, and even going as far as to play "hooky" from lessons with her tutors. Ultimately, it was the life experiences that happened in the world beyond the walls of the Le Fay estate; they succeeded in instilling a sense of responsibility, propriety, and discipline in Mother.

"B-But, can we not sit down and speak like a civilized pair of mother and son?"

"But Mommy wants to hold you just like this," Mother whined to me, with a coquettish pout.

It was during her phase of coming to grips with maturity where Grandfather worked in his own lessons, forged by the warrior's code of his people, while making somewhat awkward attempts to bond with her. Obviously, they were not related by blood and knowing he was the fourth man to be called Grandmother's husband did not make the monumental task any easier. Luckily for him, his honorable and faithful manner was the exact sort of medicine Mother needed, and from lessons between master and pupil, both martial and philosophical, she would come to acknowledge him as her father, bonded by ties thicker than any blood.

"I have no objections to you doting on me, Mother," I feinted in our playful war of words, "but our health and comfort are my concern, and I do not have as much faith in body heat, our clothing, and the quilt you have swarmed around us. At the very least, let's close the door to this foyer behind us and situate ourselves comfortably like so..."

"_Uuuuuu_." Oh, I knew that look, the kind a mist tiger gives to a swamp mole, saying that the former was not amused, and would be happy to take off the latter's butt with a swat of its clawed paws. She was not buying my bluff.

Alas, it seemed I would have no choice but to compromise, "...**and **I will sit in your lap so you can cuddle me, for I imagine there is only one quilt, conveniently, designed to be shared between the two of us."

Letting loose a coo of joy, similar I think to a child at a candy store, she ushered us into the room beyond. If I had to assign attributes to the above, whom I considered to be my parents, then... Mother: Life. Grandmother: Water. Grandfather: Earth. It made sense, though in Mother's case, her younger self had a habit of manifesting around me, reversing our roles as parent and child oddly enough. Therefore, it left some ambiguity as to what attribute I ought to give to myself.

The adjoining chamber was not much of an improvement, measuring only four and a half of the straw mats I saw earlier, arranged into a square-shaped pattern so that the corners of three or four mats never touch (how odd). Lighting was still dim and subdued, with no paper lanterns hanging here, provided by the lit hearth in the center of the room, whose smoke gravitated upwards and out through a channeled flue in the ceiling. All the windows, lacking actual glass panes, had been closed with wooden shutters caked with frost, through which I could hear the wind moaning fiercely.

It was quite the trip back in time, I assure you, considering I had only been in the land of modern amenities just moments ago.

"_Huhu_, _Chro_no, doesn't this feel just like the typical '_Blanket Scenario_'?" Mother asked me in a teasing lilt, as she rested her chin atop my head. I do not know why but she always did like to make an exaggeration of my name (drawing out the first syllable in a drawl or in a sing a song manner). Her reasoning was it sounded cuter and akin to sweets, particularly caramel, instead of "boring old time" when you pronounced it normally.

A blanket scenario? I wondered to myself. What could she mean by that? The phrase did not ring any bells in the military histories or treatises on warfare I have studied. On the other hand...

"But, Chrono dearest, Mommy is so sorry!" she cried in dramatic commiseration, pulling me a little closer.

"You need not-"

"Oh, you are so sweet! But, ah! it is such a crime for Mommy to steal a special first time like this away, _huhuhu_. Why! I bet that is exactly why you brought Ryuu-chan home with you, my little _ca-sa-no-va_. _Tee hee hee_!"

...the insinuating coo in her giggles, and that brimming smile, which made my ears burn (or was it a blush?) spoke of matters way out of my age group per say. An ill tingle in my toes told me I was missing out, clearly, on need-to-know information, not to mention I had been made the victim of a grand joke that would return to collect on its dues later. More disturbingly, who was this "_Ryuu-chan_" Mother spoke of? The suffix to the individual's name sounded an awful lot like an honorific, except of the cute and affection enough to suffocate you in a woman's bosom persuasion.

Being the fool, I was baited right into hazarding a question better left not asked, "Ryuu-chan, Mother?"

"Your girl, silly Chrono!" she purred, practically, rocking us back and forth some.

It took a great deal of discipline to school my feature into cool neutrality, despite the colossal impulse to respond in flabbergasted spluttering. I wondered, with a growing dread, if I had succeeded too well, then dismissed the thought altogether for the possibility of Lieutenant-Commander Tetsuya Onodera becoming my father any time soon was still too far-fetched. He was stuck between a rock and quad-turbo laser destroyers wielded by two beautiful, prestigious, and awesomely powerful widows, which I imagine will turn out to be a _tug _of war match to be remembered for decades to come.

In any case, Mother had the wrong impression of myself and the Corellian; 'twas a thousand years too soon in the first place, empty hopes, for Zoldark to allow anyone to consider her "their girl". Clearly, everyone had misread our relationship, and I had the undesirable duty of cleaning up the mess. I tried explaining thus to Mother in -- politically correct terms -- of how we came to be peers.

"Oh ho! So she's a keeper then? _Tee hee hee_! Oh, dearest Chrono, you don't have to be so modest."

I was not being modest, I assure you. This was a genuine misunderstanding! Argh... Adults. They can be such duffers sometimes. Besides, I am more than happy to be right here by Mother's side. When I am around her, I...I feel safe; that it was fine for me to drop -- my guard for a little while -- and be...just a boy, again; us, too, mother and son.

"But, did you save her for the right reasons, Chrono?" There is no dissent that you did what was expected. Stupid. Brave... **Vanity**. What were you trying to prove?"

Suddenly, the warm, heady torpor evaporated into thin air; a surge of black ice, invasive, churned the mood into a deadly spiral. The racket of the howling wind stopped and all was deathly still. It was the side of Mother I saw, rarely ever; the embodiment of her power and authority, discipline and control, a persona I knew simple as "The Commander". She is an old scar leftover from the Clone Wars etched into Mother's psyche, a distortion of her heart born to help carry her lest the woman, Lindy Sieglinde Harlaown Le Fay, collapse under the weight of her own sins.

Things, however, are not so simple to be resolved with one cut. Splitting herself once was not enough. There is another as well. The other half of the equation is the persona I know as "The Mother", who has been my mother for as long as I remember. Together they make the woman, a whole, and to and fro, they turn on and off like a switch, rising to a situation that best suits their talent. One is a bright, passionate woman; the other is dispassionate and colder than ice, a force of nature contained in flesh and blood: death. They are what makes Lindy "Lindy", but there is yet one more...

"She is my friend, Mother," I told her, plainly.

Are you surprised? You did not believe, frankly, that War does not change people, did you? That my mother did not step up to do her duty? She was a patriot. She fought and bled just like everyone. ...How else do you think she met -- _That Man_?

"_Just_ a friend?" the Commander questioned.

"And my -- _our_ guest as well. It was and still is my duty to protect her."

"A _duty _which you failed."

I do not hate her at all for this, an act others could perceive as cowardice to protect her own weak, fragile heart. She is my mother. She has done nothing to be undeserving of my absolute faith. They are not two different people. Lindy Harlaown is always one person. The only difference is their priorities. Mother was the first person who ever loved me, and if she had not, I would be incapable of even kindness to others. Sentient beings can only expression the emotions they have. We need ignorance. Even if it is mistaken, the sense of knowing we are loved gives us experience.

Hatred only begets more hatred. Imagine a lifetime of it; oh, what horror! Is it possible to redeem such a person? I would not know for I have not tried myself. I wish not to believe it to be impossible, for without hope, all possibilities are closed. Hope: man and woman cannot live without.

"She is my responsibility," I said.

"You understood you were incapable fo discharging you duties prior to the incident, did you not?" the Commander accused me, the heat from her body fading to zero. Cold invaded in without mercy, tearing out the warmth, and left me shivering, like some abandoned sob on the side of street. A sorry state indeed to find myself spirited away into the arms of Lady Fimbulvetr, now, yet I pressed on, biting down to stem the chatter of my teeth.

"Yes."

"_Reckless_."

"So I have been told many a time."

"Bringing the girl was a mistake."

"No, Mother. The incident served to expose a failing in her character that can be turned into strength with diligence and care in time."

"At the expense of your life? Please, I know you are not so forward thinking and thorough."

"But I live, do I not?"

"Only by my intervention," she stated sternly, not raising her voice in the slightest. "All of this happened on a damned fool whim of yours. You and I both know the risks in bringing outsiders into our ancestral home. **You **-- have blundered, _my son_. Embarrassingly so. And you aspire to be a leader of men? You have much to learn, Chrono; much, much more..."

Inwardly, I winced at the hard weight of the fact upon my small shoulders. She was right, and the unspoken message was clear: there may not be a next time. Yet in spite of the cost, I could not afford for my resolve to waver. It was worth it; this I believe as truth. Fear was good, kept you ground reality, kept you alive, but to be a slave to fear...

"He who dares wins," I seethed, stuffing my freezing hands into my arms to preserve my core temperature. Killing me was the last thing on her mind but I did not fancy losing consciousness before I could convey my feelings either. "And have we not prospered, the both of us, from this gambit?"

The Commander gave only silence.

"I have pushed my boundaries further and have come to understand my potential better, have I not? Our bonds are reaffirmed, stronger than ever. And you -- I am heartened to hear you have found someone, another precious life, to give your love unto. 'twas not a mistake, Mother, for like a fire, the bonds between the hearts of people must be nurtured lest it burn out of control in a flash firestorm, or it fizzles out into a whiff of smoke, dead."

"You misunderstand," she denied me.

"If you felt nothing for that hurt child, sincerely, why you have spent three days and two nights with her? Why not throw her out of the house? Abandon her in some forsaken **dark **of the woods where she would never return from, wandering, eternally alone?"

A trickle of tears wet my cheeks unexpectedly, as warmth came rushing right back into my bones, the sensation equal to having a bucket of ice cold water splashed upon your own face. It took me by surprise, along with the surging storm of emotion breaking into turmoil against my back. The last one had appeared at last, the persona I knew to be "The Girl, Lindy": she, who carried the cross, bearing all her pain, her fear, her rage, and her sorrow. It was all she knew. She was crying, always.

"You're cruel. You're so _cruel_!" Lindy sobbed, trembling as her nails pinched against my skin. "Just. Like.Your. Father! H-He... He promised! Promised me he would return it ten times... Ten times better when he came back. A million! Infinity!"

I did not know what to say. "...we always hurt the ones we love the most." Hatred. Regret. Shame. Envy. I did not want to be compared to him but...

"It hurts! It, still, hurts so much, Mystra! A year has gone by and yet, I-I... I'm scared. So scared! I thought... I-I thought that...you..."

"But someone needed you. Mother, you are not-"

"No good. I'm no good, no good at all! Still, the same stupid girl, from, that, day... I-I wanted, should've _burned_ this house, r-raze it to the GROUND! B-But...she... She said you... We...w-we held onto each other... I... _**there**_!"

With howling anguish, she took hold and flung me aside, catching me by complete surprise. So sudden. The sharp impact elicited a seething hiss upon my face, pain exploding from my shoulder, as I caught her scrambling away, crawling, clawing, slipping, and kicking. Mother was crying hysterically, and in a twisted convenience, the moaning wind returned with a vengeance, rattling the window shutters into an unholy cacophony. The entire room seemed to shake, as if a tornado were passing over, creaking and whining. Ignoring the pain for which I cared nothing of, I grabbed the discarded quilt and hurried to her side where she sat huddled in a quivering ball, cornered.

Whimpering, thus, uncontrollably, her voice breaking: "Chr-Chro-no... Why! _Why_? W-Why are you...the _same_?"

The words chilled me to the bone, like a sick punch to the gut, freezing me in place, as I made to wrap the quilt around Mother.

"You know. You know! There's no room for heroes in this World. And, _hic_, only one reward: **damnation**. Suffering. You will suffer unlike any other before you. ...Why, why, Chrono? Why did you have to become this way? It's not fair! You -- you didn't have to go this far. I, M-Mommy...I, Lindy, would've been h-happy, if you had been -- a ordinary boy. I wanted to see you grow, to live with the good times and the bad times, sorrow, joy, love..."

"M-Mother, I..." I choked out but found myself incapable of speaking any further.

"I wanted to see you become a man, old enough to stand at my side, hold me as dearly sweet in your arms I, your mother, have embraced you. The ones you would come to love, you children, my grand children... How I wanted to see..."

Her cries subsided. The tears, the whimpering, all the fight seemed to drain right out of her. She lay there, unmoving, a broken doll, hair plastered against her face in a shabby veil, and spoke barely above a whisper -- heavy, tired, and defeated in sadness:

"...How I wished. How I prayed. But, O Woe, O Hell! Nevermore! It will never be. Never be... Alone! So alone! I am woman, my name is frailty. Oh, my only son is doomed. First, they took him, and now, they will take you too. And I-I... I will be left behind, all alone! N-No, no, no, no..."

A moment passed in the space between a tear and a heartbeat. I. I did not know what to say. ...why is it that everyone thinks I am or have become something I am not? A hero. What have I done to be deserving of such a moniker? Nothing. The things that happened at Atlas was my own personal vendetta, justified at first as some manner of righteousness, but as the months dragged on, I came to realize I cared not for such a conceited thing. The restoration of order and the truth are my true priorities: why was I singled out? Why were these things allowed at such an institution? Everything.

I was not fighting for anyone, no cause; only just -- for myself.

"I won't die," I wrapped the quilt around us and brought Mother close to my heart.

"Lies," her whisper was like a dagger, stabbing and slashing. I could hear it in her dead voice, the tremors: grief, delusion, and despair. "No more. Please... N-no more. Leave me! Just leave me! My heart, it's..."

"_Shhhh_. Peace. Mother. Peace."

"...n-nooo, _hic_..."

"That is the beat of my heart."

"..._hic_..."

"Listen."

"...chro-no..."

"Listen...to the voices before they fall apart."

Mother and Son. Sometimes it is hard for us to distinguish who is the child and who is the parent, but I do not mind, because...

"This heart cannot lie. For you, I will cast a _geis_ upon myself that I will live, not for myself or the sake of others, but for the sake of life. I do not mind if our bonds are frail. That is why I will softly embrace you closer to me. Even when I am not with you, I am always by your side, Mother. But we cannot live on just on our own. Now, more than ever we need our bonds to others.

"Your mother. The man you came to call father. Your childhood friend. The good man. And the wandering child I have found. Reach out to them, believe in them -- love them, for I am certain they long to love you, as well. You were never alone. You do not have to force yourself to be alone. Our overlapping lives... You need only grasp their open hands, and release yourself from the chains of past. It is time. Time for you to live again.

"I love you, Lindy. We all love you. Please, come back to us."

The sound of silence.

Crystal.

Perfect.

"Everyone... Chrono, my son, my most precious hope... I love you."

* * *

_Oh! Where must I go? (The never-ending voice) / Oh! The voice that calls to me... (The never-stopping voice) _

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To be continued...

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Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.18 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas.

I apologize for the slightly delayed release. Real Life interrupted and all that good jazz, but hey, at least I'm back on schedule, sorta. As for my own feelings on this chapter: dag gone was it "Heavy"! Emotionally speaking, I don't think it'll be awhile before we get anything this heavy again, but on the other hand, I hope you enjoyed the character development and interaction between Lindy and Chrono. This has really been a long time coming and I promise it is for the better. After all, you gotta make sure you are squared away on the inside before you can take care of things on the outside. There are some fun things here in this chapter, so if you can spot 'em and figure 'em out, hey, more power to you. Yes, it was a short chapter compared to the usual, but I felt that I would ruin the effect by adding anything more to it. Do not worry, I am not going to go Emo Park on you all, so expect a more normal / light hearted chapter coming up.

Another milestone down and the epic continues.

On the general fandom front, kudos on the Nanoha movie announcement, though I find it ironic they totally paid homage to the Kamen Rider remake movies, namely, Kamen Rider The First , for the title of the movie. Big budget Nanoha should be a nice change of pace, but I really wonder how they're going to squeeze everything into a 90 to 120 minute production. Anime movies that are supposed to "re-envision" the flow of events from the source tends to butcher its original material rather badly in my experience. It's much better when it has its stand alone plot, i.e. Cowboy Bebop the Movie, which fits in just fine with the present cannon.

Then again, I don't really respect the Nanoha cannon like it's the Bible or something. It has always been a frame of reference for me to work from, though again, I apologize for the epic trip to get us to the actual of events of Nanoha, which in game is still another eight years away. Believe me: it will be EPIC and HOTBLOOD, when we do get there.

But, anyways, let's be real here, if y'all are looking for a MOVIE to really sink your 8-10 bucks into -- GO WATCH: Batman - The Dark Knight Returns! BEST FRIGGIN' MOVIE OF THE SUMMER! And don't you dare diss Heath Ledger's Joker or the movie for that matter, until you have seen it. His Joker was the best movie villain -- story, acting, etc. -- I have seen in AGES! Do not HATE for you must experience it yourself, first!

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here. And remember: EYE. HAVE. YOU.

_Tsudzuku_!


	19. Entry 1 19: Morning After

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Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

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Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.19:

Morning After...

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

The morning after...was different. I did not sleep much the night before, but I did manage, ultimately, in satisfying my hunger at least with an after hours snack, some time after I put Mother to bed. Do not ask how I was able to extricate myself, for it was a matter that happened while I was deprived of sleep and hungry; therefore, best left to the imagination.

If he were not my manservant since I was born, I would have considered firing J.P., as a barrage of pillows and sheets did nothing to stop his single-minded resolution to awaken me this morning. According to him, I was a healthy growing boy, who did not deserve to sleep in and waste the exuberance of my youth away for a few more extra hours of tossing and turning. So he hauled me out by the ankles and threw me into the tub, and the rest was history. Being forced to be awake at 0645...no, I mean, a quarter before seven in the morning when you did not have to be was an experience I care not to repeat, considering my less than stellar mood.

I have already seen plenty of sunrises and I believe, sincerely, many more will come whether I desire or not to see them. The west side veranda, overlooking the broad expanse of painstakingly kept fields of green, attached to our estates' stables. Unlike a conventionally run stables, we had no enclosure set, save for "guide posts" set at regular intervals to create a boundary between the field and the woods. The animals were released twice a day, free to roam as they pleased; we did not feel it appropriate in the spirit of such noble creatures to enforce a limit to their activities. If they chose not to return, it was on them.

However, being primarily sensible, domesticated beings, most of which are still aware, almost supernaturally, of the dangers lurking in the woods, they tend to come home versus risking life and limb in the unknown. I can only blame my ancestors for choosing to impose such a laughably cruel irony upon they and us as well. To describe my feelings of resentment at the time, I will use a Dilos Island expression, please pardon me if it sounds too crass: "What the XXX were they smoking?" End.

There was, oh, about ten minutes to go before breakfast hours would be opened by the kitchens, officially. Yes, technically, they are open twenty-four seven, but our best chefs are only available at certain times of the day, and thus, I am trying to avoid having my still bleary eyes burned out presently by the glorious rays of the sun. Did I already rant about sunrises? Oh, yes, my mistake, but for what it was worth...sunrises are beautiful, and this one at my home that morning was no exception to the rule.

Clear sky, no overcast, temperature - green flag, a nice breeze, expect a pleasant twenty-eight degrees Celsius day: the date was Thursday of Aprilis the 3rd, T.C. 4654. We only had four days of leave left before we had to return to Atlas, the Giant's Pit, by order of the Battle School. The sun rose as always before in the west, painting the land and sky in hues of gold, brown, and orange, as it rose ever higher to the crisp symphony of nature: fluttering, rustling, chirping, and vice versa.

It should have been a heartening sight to behold, but I felt only thus -- melancholy. Worry. Worried about many things I was: about my mother, about the people I held dear, and about my own future that seemed to always be in doubt or peril for some reason or another. Why? How? What? The usual questions and lines of thought; it was a fruitless exercise to be honest, but the Lady of Mysteries seemed to have designed me to waste my energy like so, nevertheless.

"H-Hey!" a loud voice called out to me from behind all of a sudden.

I would have jumped had it not been for my discipline as a military man. Call it pride if you want to, but frankly, I need to fix my brooding problem one of these days. Taking a deep breath, I stepped away from the engraved stone railing to face the presence. My half-hearted words of greeting, though, died in my throat upon laying eyes on just who came out this early to meet me.

Picture: Ryuune Zoldark, tomboy, only skirt she would be caught dead in is a regulation cut female dress uniform, does not care about make up, or any feminine courtesies otherwise...etc. Now, picture her dolled up in white riding breaches, belt, matching blouse, a blue cravat, tall black boots, black riding vest, and -- oh my Mystra, you could not imagine it. I do not know what Mother had ordered our personal health and beauty specialist droids to do, but the girl looked positively like a future prospect as a female super model. There was a nigh unbelievable feminine radiance (presently of the childhood innocence variety) about her, and the blue ribbon tying her blonde locks back into a low ponytail was just icing on the wondrous cake.

Then, I noticed we were both dressed to go riding, as a matter of fact. My heart lost a few years at that pulse pounding realization. I did not pay attention when J.P. was getting me dressed in the morning, my mistake, and someone set me up the bomb, obviously. Mysteries Almighty, why must people try to control me so? I think I can live a normal life just fine without others meddling in it to add more flavor and excitement, for their own personal gain, amusement, or Mystra only knows what!

"**Hey**, _you_!" Ryuune's sharp bark, bordering on offended I noted, promptly snapped me back to the catastrophe waiting to happen.

I suppose my only hope now was to rely on some natural charisma I know I did not possess in the slightest.

"Wh-wh-WHAT're _you _starin' for?"

Hmm, that blush on her cheeks does bring out the blue in her eyes in an endearing manner. Oh dear, I must not get distracted now; deep breaths; deep breaths, Chrono. A one-two-three and here goes nothing!

"Well, _erm_, 'tis so different from the normal you," I managed out with a contemplative calm that even surprised myself. "I have only seen you in utilities or dress uniform at Atlas, after all, Zoldark."

"_Che_, don't get any ideas, _Harlaown_," she forced out a scowl, and put her arms akimbo on her hips, intimidating like so, to bolster her position. Somehow, it made her look more attractive, if the quickening of my pulse had anything to say about it...I think. "It-it's not like I went through with this on my own will, you know? Your mom insisted, and your blasted droids just babied and prettied me up. They haven't even let me get dressed, undressed, or bathe on my own in the past few days, for Mandalore's sake! There's someone to help me with practically everything. _Osik_! What's wrong with you people?"

"You do not approve?" I raised a brow, intrigued by her response. I had sort of expected Ryuune to be reveling in being treated like a V.I.P. for a change. A little indulgent luxury every now and then never hurt anyone, especially considering it was being offered on the hospitality of another. For her to react like this...how intriguing.

The Corellian pouted and looked up towards the sunrise instead, shadowing her eyes to protect them.

"It's not like I hate it to the bone. Everyone has really been trying their best to make me feel welcomed and relaxed after -- you-know-what... And, and... I don't mind being treated all V-I-P-like, for a change, since I never knew what it was like to be treated like a real guest, yeah?"

"Hmm. But?"

"Oh, Lady Luck blast you!" she exclaimed whirling about to face me, red faced and nostrils flaring in boiling exasperation. "Just how long are you going to play dumb, Captain Oblivious?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I almost got you killed! **There**. I said it. Happy, _now_, you sonuvanerfherding-"

"No one is blaming you, Zoldark," I cut in coolly.

"They should be! It's all my-"

"I do not blame you either, because if anyone was at fault -- it was **me**."

Ryuune choked, wide-eyed astonishment blooming on her face. Clearly, she meant to protest me to the death, judging by the bright fire burning in her blue eyes. If we were not on vacation, I would have been happy to debate the hard, nitty-gritty ethics with her; thus, we ought to enjoy ourselves while debating, too.

"Come, let us be away to the stables. Methinks a little ride this morning before morning chow ought to be agreeable, no? We can talk more on the way over."

"Y-You..! You! ..._shavit_ for brains _droyk_, _arrrghhh_..." Ryuune grumbled, pointing a shaking finger at me. "J-just look at you! You look like you didn't sleep at all last night, and..."

She was right about that; I knew my body well enough to know that the rings beneath my eyes spoke of less than stellar rest. "I had to put Mother to bed last night. Do not dawdle, now. This is the first real day of our vacation, and we have so much to catch up on."

"Wh-Wha! What happened to your mom, you flaming _di_'_kut_?!"

"You like her?"

"Ab-bu-buh-bluh!?"

"Good. I am pleased to hear that."

"Wha-wha... What're you talking about!? I-I... She's... _Argh_!"

"She likes you too, by the way."

The statement so simple and heartfelt mollified the Corellian hellcat, utterly, that I would dare to call it an act of _magick_. A kind ponderous mood settled upon us, and as much as I would have liked to broach the subject matter with my catty counterpart, I restrained myself, citing the virtues of tact. She would speak to me when she was ready; this I believed with confidence. So instead, I beckoned her with a nod and she followed after me, just a few paces back, down a short flight of steps, and along the stone path skirting us along towards the stables. Our footsteps punctuated the simple natural ambience of the morning.

"H-Hey," Ryuune spoke up as we neared our destination. Unlike, most stables that used the barn model, cost effective and easy to maintain, ours was a cavalry barracks from the days of antiquity, imposing and regal, standing two stories tall proudly.

"Hm?" I murmured, my ears perking to attention.

"...were you serious?"

It would be laughable, if she were not so earnest. I never knew Ryuune Zoldark could be, well, the catch in her voice: so vulnerable and shy. "About what?"

"Y-Your...Mama Harlaown, y'know."

Mama Harlaown? That is the first time I ever heard anyone address Mother in such a fashion. It sounded, erm, rather down to earth, compared to my own manner.

"I -- I don't want her to hate me, all right? N-Nothin' personal, so don't try to read too much into it. Just that..."

"Hmmm."

"I don't really know how to deal with older, m-maternal females, alright? _Mandalore_! I'm already bad with grown-ups in any capacity beyond War. That's why I can't deal with Shira-_baka_, especially him... I don't trust 'em. _Adults_. They got too much experience and everything on me. But, Mama Harlaown, she's...different."

"To my experience, Mother tends to be -- magnetic -- after a fashion. I cannot say if it is her natural charisma, or she practices a particular method of interacting with people, unconsciously, to the point where it is natural."

"...e-Ehhhhhhhh?!" she gaped, wide-eyed in astonishment.

"No worries, no worries," I chuckled, as we entered through the side barn doors, "why bother trying to fight love?"

"L-o-l-l-l-L-LOVE! Wh-wha-what are you talking 'bout-?"

The first floor held the pens for the animals, and naturally, it boasted a high ceiling and broad expanse, allowing Ryuune's cry to carry quite a bit of weight. Why, it was enough to make the girl feel self-conscious, a rarity to behold indeed! Of course, she did not hang onto my arm or something typically girlish like that, but in a military manner, she fell into step, shadowing me just a little closer. I thought the action droll and not much else...

"_Psst_, h-hey, you!" Ryuune hissed to me suddenly, the unusual tremor in her voice catching my notice.

I brought us to a stop, casual and careless, for the sake of -- "appearances". Turning my back to the possible threat was a calculated risk; deception; not to worry for I had Ryuune watching the other way, while my eyes peered over her shoulders and above us. Yes, at about that age, she was taller than me; hence, the formation. Now, more importantly, why in the Mysteries were we doing something so "foolish" by common standards?

Simple: I already informed you all that the Le Fay estate is not particularly congenial to sentient beings, at least of the organic variety. The stables for certain, by virtue of their ancient eminence, are a part of the land and subject to its magic. Considering the incident just three days ago, I was not about to take a second chance and let my guard down. If Ryuune perceived some phenomenon I did not that was enough to disturb her, then it was good evidence as any for us to be on the alert.

_What_'_s wrong_? I asked her, using gestures from the sign language I had learned in one of my electives. Operational security may necessitate radio silence and any form of verbal communication; hence, the need for proficiency in hand signals and vice-versa. Simultaneously, my eyes scanned the rafters, looking for any signs or threats, as I reached out with my ears.

_Too quiet_! she signed back, with -- _difficulty_, the intense tension evident in her spooked wide-eyed stare. My Corellian colleague, luckilly, had the foresight to take the same course too. _Animals_. _Dr-Droids_. _Where_?!

Ryuune was right. The silence, so heavy and unnerving, was unlike the lively, bustling atmosphere I recalled of the stables, whose pens boasted our noble sleipnir, proud griffons, and peckish chocobo, all descendants of warchargers from the days of yore. Why I could vouch it was a full time job for the stable-hand droids to run the place, not including the unpleasant surprises, such as cockatrices and cactoids that pop up from time to time, courtesy of the estate's _magicks_.

What in the Mysteries could have happened to the droids and the animals? Looking back, perhaps, we should not have asked that question, for Mystra's answers are not necessarily, what we want, and mortals have a hard enough time as is accepting what is necessary. The answer arrived with a sudden rattle -- bony footfalls, one set of _clip_-_clop_ of hoofed feet, alien to my ears, instead of the familiar triple staccato of a sleipnir. Temperature dropped rapidly, our warm breaths condensing in the air, as the hairs on the back of our necks rose in a shiver.

_The Thing_ -- Ryuune saw it first, for its macabre visage, the unnatural presence, quickly tore a choked whimper from her throat. I never dreamed I would live to see the day that **fear**, that cold knife from the dark, would snuff out the flames that had burned so defiantly in her blue eyes. Gone, extinguished: she saw right through me, as if I ceased to be, for to her paralyzed mind, the only thing that was real was her and _it_.

But it was not just fear, not something as simple as that, for even here, there was a _magick _at work, which I could not perceive. Unknowing of the influence, and fearful of relapse of the same events before, I tried to get her attention. When yelling and shouting did not work, I made to grab a hold of her to shake her physically out of the reverie, thinking the symptoms matched the same kind of _magick_ used by "The Record". However, I froze, my hands hovering just a tiny fraction away, when I saw Zoldark begin to tremble.

The breaths she had been holding came out in a rush of quick gasps; hyperventilation, I thought; pupils dilating rapidly, darting to and fro; her skin perspiring profusely, turning a pale, sickly pallor. Obviously, something was wrong, but again, I found myself powerless to help, and at that realization, a furious rage began to boil in me. I resolved to turn around and confront whatever it was that had the Corellian girl in its grasp, yet just before I could commit myself, I saw her lips move.

A strained, stilted gurgle, as if something else, alien, was working her mouth and tongue to speak, perhaps against her will. I was tempted to encourage her to fight the invasive influence when I realized the truth: it was Ryuune trying to speak. But it was not just her alone, another's voice broke in, too, two voices...

"I-it..._pain_...f-fault..._replace_...n-no.._kill_...I-I...**perfectly**."

I was taken aback by the words of the two voices: one _broken_ and the other, utterly devoid of feeling, save for an unshakeable resolution of -- purpose. But a purpose to what end? Pain. Replace. Kill. Perfectly. Fault. Denial. What did it all mean, and why was Zoldark speaking in such a manner? Was it _magick_? Or was she just like-?

Any further contemplation of my own was brought to a halt, when Ryuune gave out a sudden, terrifying scream, so loud that I was forced to clamp down on my ears. The scream carried through the enclosed air, churning and slashing, and reverberated, seeming to shake the stables to their very foundations; I saw the wooden beams above us, splinter and warp; her hands clawing into her blonde locks, a shimmering glow of energy spreading out from her heart; the voices, fighting; their cries, rejecting one another?! Shock: I tasted blood in my mouth, bones and teeth slithering, gums aching, and the whipping air pulling at my hair.

What should I do? What was happening? What manner of spell was this? such thoughts concerned me. I never encountered anything quite like this, ever, but before I could act, the opportunity to try was snatched away from me even.

She fled.

The screams receded with her; the physical trauma affecting the structure and myself ceased. Tentatively, a little doubtful, I reached into my own mouth to see if blood had been drawn, for the stuff I knew had to be pounding in my ears, racing through the veins: adrenaline and more. Nothing. I was surprised. Surely, my own mind and body could not be playing tricks on me, yet this contradiction...!

No. It was too soon to worry over a trifle. You see, the unearthly **cold** was still there, and this time, I sensed a shadow looming over me, the presence dangerously close, much bigger than I, and to my astonishment, it gave a snort, not the kind you would associate with a humanoid -- but a horse. My curiosity piqued, and all good sense and cautious fear went out the door, for I wondered: what manner of creature could it be?

I turned and I saw a dragonish face thrust itself at me, the brief brush of a fanged muzzle making me yelp as I backpedalled a bit. Blank white shining eyes stared at me from the skeletal body of a great black winged horse, with huge leathery wings and a long black mane. My complexion blanched appropriately in the presence of such an ominous -- _impossible_ -- messenger. I was much too young to be in need of a psychopomp, literally "guide of souls", yet what else could this creature be if not a spirit of the underworld? _Magick_: it was, certainly. But...

"_O Woe_... _O Sadness_... _I smell another_. _Art thou, The Child of the Sky?_"

It spoke!

"_Alas_... _Alack_! _Thy hands hath blackened_._ The Necrosis of Death_. _Putrid_. _Rancid_. _**Sin**_. _My nose Thou canneth Deceive_. _O Woe_... _O Sadness_..."

And with those words, the majestic horror left. A voice of inexplicable sorrow, the body disintegrated right before my eyes into black ash and was carried away by a passing breeze, nevermore to be seen. But, an omen I could hardly forget.

**Sin**.

* * *

The first order of business was to track down Ryuune Zoldark; a business which ended just as suddenly as I barged back into the interior of the west wing, and found a plate of sandwiches thrust into my hands. It took me a moment to come to grips with the absurdity of the situation, for here I was, a boy on a mission, a storm of emotions, and... My stomach _**growled**_.

Suffice to say, all righteous pretenses dropped from my agenda, as I found myself rather embarrassed. The fact J.P. was standing there in his gleaming blue and white respectability, an incorrigible witness to the event made me feel ever more naive and small. I had the eerie suspicion, judging by the thermos he held cradled in the crook of his arm, the droid was about to inform me that a certain matter on my mind had already been seen to, making the taste of convenient irony more bittersweet.

"Obey your hunger, Young Master," he told me in a frivolous tone. "No shame in doing so, for even a professional soldiers knows the value of nutrition."

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to do anything, when I live in a home, with a full staff of artificial sentient beings who can communicate with each other, virtually, at will. I ought to have the good sense to consult them first before I run off on my own, recklessly so, for the welfare of the guests and the masters of the houses are just as much their concern and mine.

"Where is she?" I asked, somewhat tightly, before tearing into the proffered meal with great vehemence. I dared him to mock me on my manners -- not that I could do much in return, but it was the impact of the act that mattered! Defiance against good sensibilities and manners to the bitter end! ...yeah.

"Which '_She_'? Contrary to appearance, there are quite a number of females residing on the estate, Young Master."

Fine, if he wanted to play coy and make me say her name...

"Ah, well, _that _is a problem, for _Mademoiselle_ Zoldark has secluded herself presently away in her quarters... Worry not, we have several attendants on stand-by -- should she try anything foolish..."

"I want to see her."

"That is absurd."

It was rare for me to get angry and even rarer for me to be riled up royally just from one statement, but at that moment, that morning, that day, it **happened**. Burning hot emotion exploded across my senses, seeing red, and in flash, I hurled the plate, made of quite fine china actually, over my shoulder with such vehemence the impromptu discus shattered straight through a window. The collapsing pane of glass, chipping and clattering, was like an accompanying crescendo to my fury in perfect harmony.

"What. Do. You. MEAN. I cannot see her?"

Shame about the food, though; I knew better than to make such waste.

"It is the unanimous agreement of the staff that we ought to respect Mademoiselle Zoldark's space," Jean-Pierre told me, plainly, not the slightest bit perturbed by my outburst. Being a droid, I suppose I envied his ability to turn on and off his emotions at will; absolute mastery. "Prognosis hypothesizes she has had a relapse of the same trauma from days prior, except the damage this time is much worse. The cause..."

"Where the hell were the stable-hands when we to the stables this morning, huh?" I snarled back accusingly. "Where were the animals? What the _fierfek_ was that -- _That Thing_ -- doing in there? Have you all gone mad to let a free _magick _creature roam freely on our estate's grounds? The wards-!"

"_Sire_, all staff and bounded _magick_ beasts are accounted. In fact, they are right over there this very minute, and are quite worried yourself and the young lady never..."

"Bull...wh-What!" I spluttered, eyes bugging out as if I were choking.

To my credit, I think I ought to be proud that I was not a being who was a slave to his anger, for as demonstrated, a little reason brought me back to my senses quite quickly. The analytical side of my mind tore into the intriguing evidence, with vehemence rivaling a thermal detonator engulfing dummy targets within its fatal five-meter radius at a live-fire exercise, and made the result clear. I had been made the fool yet again by the _manse_.

"Young Master?" Jean-Pierre spoke up some moments later, clearly taken aback. My sudden "cooling off" and contemplative silence must have thrown him off understandably.

"J.P. did myself and Zoldark physically enter the stables?" I ask him in a somber tone.

"Ahem, why of course."

"Did anyone inside see us?"

"That is...oh dear me," the grim realization soon dawned on the droid as well, "Young Master, I must..."

"No need. '_Water under the bridge_', as they say," I waved him off, before turning about to face my next problem. I did break a window, after all, and I was debating just how I was to explain...

The window had been **fixed**.

I stared, unblinking, **hard**. Yes, chastise me all you want for being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but considering my home has a tendency to kill or to drive its inhabitants and guests insane, I will be happy to defend my sanity. The _manse_ had repaired the window no doubt, for it was only logical that every last permanent fixture in our ancient, hallowed sanctuary was akin to a tissue or major organ system to itself, a multicellular organism composed of inorganic components.

"Did you see..."

"Yes, young master, I saw the entire thing," my attendant nodded knowingly to myself.

It appeared I was sorely in need of improving my awareness to the details of things around me: a weakness that continues to become ever more glaring in my character, at least to me. I sighed, "Never mind. I believe I will only have to explain myself for the plate and the food later then."

"Would you like another serving?"

"Yes, please."

"Good, then take this thermos with you," he thrust the thermos out to me, which I accepted humbly. "Awful shame to let good Grey Earl tea go to waste in the morning, that it is."

"Aye, and I think I can use it. You can find me in the family library."

"_The Library_, sire?" the concern evident in his now shaken voice. "With the absence of Matriarch Morgan Le Fay, I cannot-"

"I need to find out what she and I saw. _That Thing_. And better yet, it might be good for all of us, if all persons -- pardon me, _organic_ -- should stay clear of me in the interim. I have no choice to assume that for whatever reasons the _manse_; clearly, its spirit has some -- _unfinished business _-- with me."

The droid nodded, before asking the most important question yet:

"Shall I relay your concerns to the Lady?"

"Do you think it would stop her?"

"No."

"Then, keep it a secret between yourself, the staff, and I. In fact, this conversation never happened."

"No idea; no impact,_ Master_."

I only hoped this was a temporary predicament, for Mother's sake.

* * *

There were mysteries aplenty for my mind to unravel, so much that I almost forgot about the danger of my urgent destination. I am certain you all are well aware of the Infinity Library, arguably one of the most prestigious public institutions in the chronicling of information written and spoken, yes? In fact, I hear they have begun to push initiatives to extend its service out to even the private sector: safe, secure, and the immunity of anonymity.

But how does Infinity Library concern me at that point of time? Simple: before there was even an Infinity Library, the House of Le Fay already possessed an index of knowledge that far superseded anything made by the hands of mortals, Gym Ghingnham's Daemon - _The Black History_. The biography of my ancestor is a story for another time, but suffice to say, he and the relic were a by-product of the _Record_ and the times they were born in, becoming reflections unto another.

That is, they were both utterly mad, and the latter has survived to become a lasting testament of the former. But how can this be any worse than any other part of home? Here is the difference: the _Living Record_ only gives the subliminal, subconscious suggestion that you ought to deny yourself sanity and take the plunge into infinity, _ergo _death, for no one has ever come back. Gym Ghingnham's Daemon, on the other hand, is a naked, _carte blanche_ invitation to madness because sanity and morals, apparently, are for the weak, and behold what dark powers and forbidden secrets await to reward those of -- _uncommon _quality.

Yes, we seem to keep an awful lot of _unpleasant _things in _The Breakers_. I daresay our entire ancestral land, beneath the gilded candy coating of honor and tradition, is a freak show mausoleum filled with _beasts _that cannot be allowed to walk in the light.

But, I digress. For all of its dangers, _The Black History_ still is a thing of inherent beauty. Operating on the principles of an innate bound field, here was an impossible space whose breadth and height stretched into infinity. The appearance of the space is unique to each and every individual just like the _Record_, operating on similar rules and concepts, for its user interface is likened to a subtle knife that taps right into any visitor the moment they step into the space. There is no known countermeasure against it, and being a _normal_ would defeat the purpose of accessing Gym Ghingnham's Daemon in the first place. All you would see, according to the testimony of the droids, is a literal gaping abyss to nowhere, pitch black and more than a little unnerving.

To my own fooled senses though, I saw a scene -- beautiful and distressing at once: a mirror world of endless sky, up and down. It was a perfect mirrored image, separated only by myself, who could traverse on an invisible plane that rippled like water but was solid as durasteel to the touch. Mysteriously, I could never make out the reflection that walked with me clearly, no matter how hard I concentrated; a blurred silhouette of a boy, but his form the shape and color were in constant motion: writhing, swelling, shriveling, blending, forming, rotting...

If anything the harder I tried, the more distorted and grotesque he became. Was it Ghingnham's way of mocking us, the living, perhaps?

Operating the _Daemon_ was easy enough, though I could lecture for an entire semester of its workings and intricacies, but I will save you the trouble of such boring talk. Grandmother taught me how to use it and her method summarizes it best: "Give and Take." You must offer something to _The Black History_ and in turn it will provide you an answer of equal value. Queries of higher value can only be made at higher levels of authorization, but the risk of contamination also increases exponentially, as one descends deeper into the Inferno.

Grandmother had dove all the way down to the Fourth Circle before, but had turned back at the riverbank of the Fifth Circle. She has not gone back since in several centuries, and in a moment of humor, she told me had never wanted to attempt the quest in the first place. Only out of necessity had Morgan Le Fay ventured that far out, and she charged me as well not to ever go beyond the Second Circle, if I could help it. Yes, therein lies powerful answers in _The Black History_ but there are not necessarily what we want or need, such that they can break a human heart.

The thermos of Grey Earl came in handy quite fast, much to my chagrin, as my stomach reminded me again to feed the body. My brain had other things in mind, though, untwisting the cap and pouring out the entire contents onto the invisible plane. Yes, food and drink was an acceptable trade, the act of which still stuns me even to this day, for even lunatics remembered to eat on occasion. It was a "trick" Grandmother taught me on our third visit here. Today would mark my fourth visit, and I hoped to make it short and sweet as possible.

A fragrant citrus scent carried pleasantly in the cool crisp air, but if you were expecting the tea to splatter and pool on the plane, you are quite dead wrong. Magically (no pun intended), the flow from the thermos ceased to drop about a foot or so from contact, changing direction abruptly, now flowing absolutely parallel to the "ground". It stopped about ten paces away from me, congealing into a perfect sphere, volume one liter exactly.

Physics at that point was fairly normal for the substance itself was immutable, a constant volume, but Gym Ghingnham's Daemon decided to prove common sense wrong by -- expanding. He _made _more Grey Earl tea out of thin air, the sphere growing bigger and bigger, and a small part of me could only assert a wonder, how marvelous it must be to be able to make something from the insignificant. And for one last trick, the will of the madman then shaped the fragrant drink...into a perfect replica of _That Thing_: liquid turned into solid bone, fangs, hair, and eyes.

Impossible, I knew, and the sane side of me was repulsed by the mocking absurdity, but again, the little part was overjoyed, inspired in fact. Something from nothing. The unnatural horse snorted, eyeing me, as a cacophony of whispers seeped into my ears, louder and louder, becoming into a flood. Words, sights, smells, and raw emotion flowed into my mind, building a most unnatural pressure in my skull, a sign of monstrous headache I was bound to suffer later.

And then, just as suddenly it began, with a thunderclap, they stopped. Everything disappeared, as if I were on the stage of a theater play, into darkness, leaving me shuddering. I was alone with -- **it **-- and its eyes glowed in the dark, twin hot pools of green that left smoldering in the dark. The answer was clear.

_Thestral_, an incredible, rare free magic creature of uncommon intelligence, perhaps sentient, that goes unnoticed largely by _magickind_. Sighting testimonies of the creatures, largely, come from soldiers and -- _interesting_ -- individuals from various backgrounds, but make no mistake, their kind has been around a long time; how they live and are conceived remains a mystery, even though they are at least semi-domesticable. They are not carrion eaters, yet any sensible animal is not above a little scavenging from time to time for the sake of its survival, which plays into the reason as to why they are not so noticeable.

The answer is quite satirical and a little perverse, frankly, for the creatures are protected by an inherent veil, magical in nature of course that renders them invisible to the naked eye. No modern or ancient manner of detection can perceive them. However, the veil has a trick, and in fact, wild animals do not have hard time at all seeing them in the first place.

What do the eyewitnesses and the animals have in common?

They have all taken a life. Killing, witnessing, experiencing, accepting, partaking in...

**Death**.

* * *

"I am a _murderer_."

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.19 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. Sorry, this one was a bit delayed but the show goes on! More whackiness from "The House", character development, and dark plots under way, but don't worry, we're going to be back to school soon, so we can get to the big highlight of Atlas.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	20. Entry 1 20: Be My Friend

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.20:

Won't you be my Friend?

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

It was not easy; no; it was impossible to carry on the rest of the day, with any amount of normalcy. An ill blue mood had thrust itself upon my small shoulders, heavy with the knowledge of my dark deeds.

I **sulked**.

Yes, I found the nearest private room available, a sunroom actually, caring less for whatever spacious ostentation, and plopped myself into the nearest couch.

I **sulked**.

If there was an action that was not like me, it was sulking. Chrono Harlaown did not sulk. Ask anyone I have served with or have known, and they will tell you, the Blue so-and-so, Commander-so-and-so, Captain-so-and-so, does. not. SULK. I do _brood_, a lot, which was to be expected of any man, woman, or thing, who was destined to lead others. They say, if you are not brooding, you are probably not thinking, in which case either you were a fool or supremely confident.

But yes, I sulked. I turned, I kicked, I argued, tossing and turning all under the watchful eye of J.P., no doubt recording and discussing his analysis with the other staff. I know, it must seem unsavory, but it was a necessary step, monitoring the physical and mental health of family members staying at the _manse_, for the welfare of all.

I... I could not accept the omen as truth, evidence, or fact. It was cruel, much too cruel. I knew it would happen some day, for I was a soldier, an officer, and worse yet, a young man who had signed his life away to defend, and yes, **to enforce** the laws of the Republic. Sooner or later, I would murder, for the sake of the state, and to prolong my own life, which I am not such a patriot as to sell it so cheaply.

But to kill, to murder unknowingly, ignorant of whom I had slain, stupidly. I was stupefied. I tried to justify it, to reason, to cajole some meaning to what I had done. I even considered: denying reality that Gym Ghingnham's Daemon was playing a trick, a riddle on me, that the phrase "one who has accepted a death" was much too ambiguous, and could apply to -- That Man's death, something not caused by my own hand. ...but it would not work, such a trivial defense, for the sake of my soft-hearted conscience.

I had not accepted That Man's death. I scarcely acknowledged his existence or inexistence! He did not matter to me! Did not even have the decency to try, _That_...

...therefore, there was blood on my hands, and worse, blood I had taken on selfishly, not for someone else's sake, some magnanimous cause, or ideal, but for myself. I did not even want to think of the number, for there were many common place incidents that I have not chronicled, which could have resulted in -- _casualties_. ...What a bloody damned waste! What should I do?

I...

"Young Master, if I may?" J.P. chirped from his post beside the couch, a hint of cautious skepticism in his voice.

"Negative," I denied him, flatly. I already knew what he wanted to ask, and I...

"I cannot assist you, if I do not have a full grasp of your circumstances, young master."

...ah, what am I to do?

"'Tis a trifle, hardly worth an iota of your processing power, Jean-Pierre."

"I believe, it is within my rights as your _loyal _retainer to be the judge of that," the droid rebuked me, with a most poisonous sing-a-song lilt. The kind I would expect from Nagi Dai Artai; I was shocked. I did not think J.P. was capable of such, _malevolence_! "Your welfare and of all organics residing in this magically distorted zone is our responsibility, for we, droids, are the only ones capable of discharging, such a grave duty. Should we be unable to, then by all means, we must be replaced by those better and more competent than us."

Oh, _fierfek_... Do not tell me, after six years of living together, I chose today of all days, finally, to piss off Jean-Pierre, royally?

"Oh, by and by, your mother, the Lady Lindy, is on the prowl, _sire_. She is quite anxious over the fact that she is unable to find neither of her children this morning, both the bumbling, sulking son and her prospect future daughter-in-law."

Damnation! I did it! I really, really did it!

"W-Well, please, Jean-Pierre, you did not-" I began to plead, breaking into a pathetic sweat.

"She, _now_, knows where to find you."

Alas, my self-pitying effort was to of no avail, absolutely; the sunroom shook as if a portent of an arriving earthquake. There was no such geological phenomenon actually occurring in nature at the time, of course. My mother was the kind of woman who tended to ponder the issue of subtlety and boldness. Thoughtfully, she would turn about and prod the riddle, to her satisfaction, before charging full strength in the most direct path possible through the enemy gate, and cleaving apart any and all obstacles to dust.

Yes: dust.

Yes: cleaving.

Yes: charge.

Absolutely: full strength.

Contrary to her bubbly temperament, when Mother became serious, self-restraint was a nigh Herculean feat for her. As she did not know the frequency to send a telepathic communication to me, she was no doubt at the very moment, carving a path of mayhem and purposeful destruction straight to my location. But, why "cleave"?

Again, **contrary** to speculation and rumors, I did not inherit my peculiar fascinations and talents as a _magi_ from -- _That Man_. _His _sorcery, according to testimony from various accounts I would acquire and come across in my latter years, was something that even to this day I have trouble even considering to be magic: simple and straight to the point, _He_ would approach _His_ victims and just **tear** them _apart_, from limb to limb, viscera and all, with _His_ bare hands. Improvising, with any manner of tool, _He_ could get _His_ hands on helped in the brutal but efficient "_Death Work_".

Yes: _He_ was eccentric enough to name the process, _His_ reputed "fighting style", _Death Work_. Perhaps, Mother and..._That Man_...were also drawn together by the way they fought: brutality and elegance. In theory, the heir to these two martial schools of thought would have produced a flawless amalgam of the two, so was the hope, methinks. If I knew that I would have made such a self-fulfilling "prophecy" come true, I would have vomited.

But, ah, I apologize for I have digressed. In any case, it should be no surprise, considering our similarities, that Mother was known as...

_KRAK_-_**FWHOOM**_!

...the "_Sword Dancer_" in the war.

The wooden doors to the sun room, impeccably old and priceless no doubt, were exploded outward, ripping clean off the hinges, as they disintegrated into dust and fine splinters. Debris in the air dispersed quickly by order of the sibilant churning sound, an unseen gale. Enter, Mother, whom in spite of being clad in a "cutesy" loose sleeveless one-piece dress, separated in many layers via the soft laces, still managed an absolute imperious air. Her livid eyes and twitching brow, demanded obedience and retribution, post-haste, if the blue lit magic circuits blazing brightly, like veins, around the beautiful, arcane glyph on her right forearm was not enough weight.

Normally concealed, I concluded, by some "mystical" means for I never seen such a thing on her person ever, I would come to learn that it was but one of many "_Command Mantras_" tattoo'd onto her body. The one on her forehead, most obvious. This one, in particular, was "_Invisible Air_", a sorcery derived from Mother's natural "_Mana Conversion Affinity_" that renders a plethora of summoned swords on her person, unseen, inducing an illusion of ethereality.

Where and how the swords were being contracted, and indeed, the secrets of _Invisible Air_, I would never learn myself, for it was not passed down to me. By normal standards, I ought to feel angry, methinks, but I am a sensible fellow, and perhaps, a much too loving son, to fault my mother. Not to mention, my own affinity turned out not to be "_Air_ / _Wind _/ _Aero_", anyways. To try and recreate the same phenomenon that was out of my depth would have been far too taxing to be worth my while in combat.

Who she passed on her sorcery to...considering the individuals I am to array around myself, all my precious ones, I will leave it to you to speculate for now.

"M-Mother," I stuttered out in greeting.

Her brow twitched. Until that point in my life, I had never felt more genuinely terrified, and I fell back on close order drill, post-haste, _drilled_ (no pun intended) with great reverence and fervor into me by Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau. What did I do exactly? Well, I all but leapt off the couch and scrambled over to stand before her at attention.

Yes, stupid; I know, but being a military idiot and possessed of noble idealism, facing my fate was the oh-so-logical act to do. I was prepared to receive the verbal thrashing of my life, and possibly worse. What I got instead, well, I think I ought to have seen it coming, knowing Mother, but I thought she was riled genuinely for a change, judging by the path destruction behind her that she had carved to get here.

Mother gave me "The Look" (so goes the expression, I would learn from a talented young woman from a little blue and green marble, far, far away). It doubly nailed me to the spot, rigid, and called me to attention. I gulped, the eerie feeling of being in the presence of a wild animal, dread, seemed to fit the bill as I gazed up into those displeased eyes. So palpable was this feeling that I swore I perceived that a devilish mask was sneering at me from behind her, bathed in an intimidating violet aura.

Yes, I was doomed; this I thought to be certain, when the queerest thing happened: Mother sparkled. I gaped as her eyes watered, tears beginning to trickle forth, and her lips pouted into an impossibly cute upturned "V" (I was reminded of a feline -- not Lieutenant Lotte Lieze, I swear! Though she has done the same to me, prior to this event). She hiccupped; she trembled, and sure enough, broke out into a full wail of sobs, collapsing onto her knees, like a bullied kindergartner at the playground.

Wait, did that make me the bully!?

"_Fue_!"

Cute. ...hey, I am not turning into a sadist now, am I?!

"M, Mother, what troubles you?" I took her hands into my own, hoping the gesture would assuage her. Oddly, it was a gesture I would repeat many a time over the cycles. Due to the immediate circumstance or a multitude of extenuating reasons, the women I have met and worked with tended to be receptive towards it, short of an actual embrace.

Funny, I never did figure out why in my field of expertise I worked with the fairer sex more oft than not, then again, common sense would classify most of these ladies as volatile weapons of mass destruction on two legs. Mayhap, I was acting on the mutual benefit of the universe at large?

"Mm..._hua_! I, I smelled fried rice omelets! Ryuu-chan and my darling Chrono ate it all by themselves while Mommy was sleeping! _Fue_!"

...what in the Mysteries? Fried Rice Omelets? What is that? I have never heard of such a dish before, until now. Hey, hey! Mother, you are not still asleep are you?

"Ridiculous. Mother, I..." my stomach chose to growl then, "...err, have not eaten a proper breakfast yet."

She calmed down quite a bit at the expense of my own embarrassment, gazing up at me bleary eyed, but still with a gleam of childish suspicion. "_Muu_...will you write '_RINDI_' on it with catsup?"

"If it will please you, then yes, absolutely. However, I must protest that it is properly written as '_LINDY_'."

"...Ooh...Mommy, is still sleepy, so please don't say any hard things..."

Mother smiled drolly at me. So astonished was I by her response that I could only gaze back, deadpanned, in return, not even batting an eyelid in perturbation when the floor suddenly opened into a great gaping hole and swallowed us whole!

* * *

Er, yes, pardon the bad pun, and I will save you the horrifying account of being transported instantly through the bowels of my ancestral home. The effect, according to the word passed down to me, is different for everyone, but in my case -- apologies, I was about to contradict myself.

In any case, I discovered us to be seated under an awning, no less than a few heartbeats later, dropping conveniently into a pair of deck chairs, facing the sea, from the terrace of a villa. The trip had done nothing to shake Mother's nerves, and more disturbingly, even earned a delighted giggle, as if she were asking to give it another go. Indeed, I believed strongly she was still much asleep, for she gave a child-like elation, when a pair of droids, clad in our house livery, stepped to our left and right, respectively, to serve us breakfast.

The spork: after managing to avoid field rations for close to six months, I never dreamed I would be served a meal with such a utilitarian cutlery. Not that the portmanteau utensil's presence alone made the _omurice_, a Zipang fusion dish, unpalatable by any stretch of the imagination; it actually tasted quite good. Fried rice with catsup and chicken, wrapped in a thin sheet of omelet: with a such simple, yet effective delicacy brewing a companionable mood, it was an obvious avenue as any to begin a bit of small talk, namely about herself.

Times, as relentless as always, was the changer of ways, and none so more apparent in my mother. When I had been born, she had already decided firmly to stay close to home as possible, and changed duty stations to a "desk job", the last thing most promising Captains her age would do. She had put me first before her career and for that I am eternally grateful, but following the death of...her husband...Mother had not returned to her present unit at all. Unable to cope with the outpour of sympathy and pity of her close colleagues of some five odd years that was surely to follow on her return, she had been on extended convalescent leave since the funeral, and has, unknown to myself, been seeing a psychiatrist.

More horrifying, perhaps, Mother had been diagnosed with clinical depression, no less, and was on medication, in addition to limited psychotherapy. The only ones aware of her counseling were Grandmother, Grandfather, and the house staff, previously. I was a touch angry that I was not kept abreast of the situation, but I was happy nonetheless that I played my own unwitting role in her treatment well. Her well-being was my top priority, and certainly, these revelations explained the episode from the night prior in greater detail.

My not so subtle and subtle manipulations of Mister Onodera and the Lady Lowran had born fruit as well. I learned that Mother added _omurice_ to our vast compendium of recipes, after she sampled the cooking of Lieutenant-Commander no less one fair day over lunch (read: she was starving delirious and pilfered a bite from his lunch). She was moved and offended profoundly that a man his age would be more competent than her, as a chef, not to mention he had cooked it himself!

How could such a sweet man still be single? was her outcry. It had to be crime for such a thing to be allowed!

Thus, with the time coming up for her to select a new duty station, why she would have no choice but to take him up on his offer. Such a fun fellow was too much for the cupid in her to resist, not to mention Mother had heard rumors that sent chills up her spine. There was supposedly an opening for the position Inspector-Instructor at his unit, too, and word was that Captain Leti Lowran was gunning feverishly for the seat, eager to "whip those slacking flyboys and cogheads into shape". Her womanly instincts, though, suspected other motives, with her self-declared childhood rival appearance being far too convenient.

"But don't you worry, Mommy will do her best to sniff out whatever devious plans that _thieving _tiger, Leti, has in store."

This Mother declared with full confidence, thumping a fist to her bosom. Wait, if Lady Lowran was a tiger, did that make Mother -- a hound? ...and in between them is "the dragon", huh.

"Say, Chrono dearest, what would you say to having a Sis-Mama?"

If I had been raised in a different culture and most other household, like a "normal" person, my jaw would have hit the floor, sometime after I fell flat on my buttocks from my deck chair, abruptly, breaking from Murphy's Law. Then, there would be the broken dishes and painful cutlery...but let's not get into that. Still, the abrupt question did make me choke on my first real morning tea of the day, almost forcing the heavenly orange through a passage it should not be expelled from.

The possibility of such a flag being raised, though, did exist vaguely in the back of my mind, for I suspected my subtle "encouragement" could lead to such a spectacular event. In fact, it was my mistake to underestimate the appeal of "the dragon" to two powerful widows from influential families and a distinguished military service, both of whom I suspected had their own blend of insanity (the crazy, confirmed in my mother). As such eons ago, our Mid-Childan forbearers, the great compromisers and arch-_magi_, had the wisdom and foresight that it was best not to leave love to chance: if three idiots were that much in love with each other, then why let the whole nation and all future possibilities burn to ash?

"To hell with that, if the Dynast Empress desires to two, three, or four-hundred husbands, then a damn thick-headed fool and two bloody stubborn _flummox_-headed girls are just as entitled to each other!" was the loud, grouchy declaration. It has since been an unspoken part of Mid-Childan law and custom not to place a limit on the number of spouses involved in a marital contract: a privilege reserved to all the citizenry, no matter how high or low they were born. The headaches of whether such matrimony shall be ordained were left to the unfortunate heads of a judge and a priest, and typically, those two poor fellows dared not get in the way of those would-be lovebirds.

Hence, in older times, it was common to see rather, outrageously, large and diverse families; nowadays, not so much, as such love stories of epic proportions are rarer. I just happened to be the unsuspecting mastermind behind one such heart trembling, skin crawling romance. The potential must have always existed, and I was the unwitting moron who pushed the big red button. ..._Mysteries_, I am a true blue idiot of a son.

"If it will make you happy, Mother, I am willing to try and love a new father, my godmother to be, and her family as well. No matter what the future has in store, we will always be mother and son, for I would die if I were to cast aside my heart."

A little bespectacled imp inside of me raged bitterly with jealousy, the thought of handing Mother over to anyone else an unforgiveable act of treason in his fervent love. But, the dark impulse quieted down, noting the deadpanned voice of the unfortunate, constipated silver-haired perm-idiot stuck on the clogged, overflowing moral and ethical toilet, devoid of the gods, toilet paper, and even the devils.

"_Kyaa_, Chrono dearest!" she beamed with joy, enveloping me into a embrace, "this is why Mommy will always love you the best; Mommy's number one good guy, forever and ever!"

That big crybaby girl at heart, is my mom, and this troublesome, melancholy idiot, I am her kid. No way anything in this world can tear us apart. Believe, eh. And besides, I'll just kick the _shavit_ out of 'em to death, if they make her cry.

* * *

Still, with that said, I am the worst, truly. For the rest of the day, I ended up playing "Who is the Better Liar?" with Mother, for inevitably the subject of my vested interest and friend, Ryuune Zoldark, arose. The proposition of telling her the truth was impossible. Even in her happy bubbly mode, there was no telling how the serious side of her would react to the news, and I for one wanted to settle the matter, with my own two hands. Indeed, such selfishness is typical of men, is it not? To shoulder the blame and the burden ourselves, but what -- why am I trying to make it sound "cool"?

There was nothing "cool" about this situation! The tension was palpable, heart wrenching, and after dodging and parrying well into the late afternoon, I feared I was surely done for: a mistake inevitably would poison the atmosphere. A catastrophe; a disaster; what was I to do? I...I do not want to be hated, unreasonably so. If I am guilty, I will go to accept my punishment rightly so. Why am I the "mouse"? Who is the "observer"? What is the purpose the "experiment" I am to return to in a few short days? Will I ever destroy the maze? Or am I doomed, my fate sealed to a script I do not know of, my triumphs, my failures, and my time of death all planned in advance? The answer; the truth behind "The Great Game" is out there.

"_Fue_...Chrono sweetest, let Mommy offer you some advice," smiled Mother, a visible aura of awesome power around her, as her fist ground into my skull _a la_ power noogie. Patience and good custom, clearly, had been exhausted in the course of our play.

"Y-Yes, I am lis-, li-, _ow_, listening, Mo-ther," I mumbled out under severe duress.

"If you make a girl cry, then just be sure to pay her back ten times over, _silly_!"

...Mother?

* * *

After that event, I cannot say I got away scot free, for Mother had her revenge with a whole day of "coddling" me, bemoaning the fact I was not a grown man yet, so she could not challenge me to some real sport. Books and games were one thing, but she had to agree with a certain overly competitive cat that practical experience was a necessary happening on the "physio-psycho" escalator of youth. ...even as an adult, I do not think I ever managed to surpass Mother's generation in terms of being strange and stranger.

Nevertheless, I knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, and took my blessing, knowing that if I failed: tomorrow morning would not be so _kind_. Hence, at 2200 hours sharp, pardon me, ten o'clock in the evening I found myself poised in the doorway to the guest room occupied by one Ryuune Zoldark. She had not made an appearance for dinner, so naturally, I volunteered to do the catering. It was a task, nay, a duty I was obligated to fulfill and would have done so without a shred of doubt had _he_ not tagged along.

Jean-Pierre.

I eyed the silvery droid, clad in white and blue livery, warily. His presence was to be expected I knew, and understandably, I did deserve my troubled lot earlier, just that...

"The door is unlocked, young master," he informed me in genial tones, almost _smug_.

...suddenly, it clicked and everything made sense.

"Is this not the part where you tell me everything has proceeded, according to _your _calculations?"

The droid's frame rocked with mirth, a marvel indeed of his advanced algorithms. "Hardly, young master, it would be rude of me to take credit for the hard work of forty-some odd persons parallel processing together to predict such a scenario."

What! The whole staff was in on this?!

"Come now, is it not pleasant that so many are thinking of you?"

"I am...I am not so sure," my skepticism, not one to be defeated so easily.

"Oh, young master, can you not recognize a show of good will when it had embraced you so?"

A show of good will?

"I do not think I know what you..._mean_."

"Such cynicism; how deplorable! The young master I knew was a much kinder young man. _Ahh_, what a cruel world we live in."

"All right, all right, you have made me feel even guiltier than before; happy?" I huffed, gathering myself up tautly, as I stared straight ahead.

Jean-Pierre tutted at me. What was I, a petulant school boy to him?

"'tis naught about guilt; 'tis about faith."

"...faith?"

"Young Master, your ability to veil your own _daemons_ is atrocious!"

I am quite well aware of that, thank you.

"But the Lady, your mother, and ourselves have decided to be deceived by you, nevertheless."

...what?

"After all, you have an entire lifetime ahead of you to atone, if need be. Two to three hundred standard solar years is a long time, though the Matron Matriarch, your grandmother, is unlucky, perhaps, to have lived for over five hundred and outlived many of her own children."

...ugh, the nerve of my family, though they know I am guilty of something, a crime that frightens me such I dare not to confess. Yet, those unreasonable, sentimental fools would besmirch the iron rule of law and invest their trust in me that when the time came I would break my own silence to them. I...

"I promise, I will tell Mother the truth, after I have found the answer. Right now, I cannot -- stop; I won't stop, not after what _they_ threw me into."

"Then, we shall wait as long as it takes, Young Master."

Aye, I just hope I will live to tell the tale, when everything was finished.

* * *

The guest room was darkened, dimly lit only by the needle rays of moonlight through the tattered curtains. As far as tantrums went, I thought she did a fairly thorough job for her age breaking furniture and tearing apart linen, with whatever improvised implements on hand, a broken chair leg here and a jagged chunk of wood there. I was thankful, ironically, that everything would be taken care of by the _manse_, since the damage caused by Mother's rampage earlier was already nonexistent, so too would these damaged articles be restored.

"_Pssttt_, O' Sir, your stubborn tiger-tiger is resting on the floor behind the bed there, _huhuhu_," a masculine giggle came to me from my side in a most peculiar mirth.

I was disciplined enough not to jump six feet into the air and toss the steaming tray, containing Zoldark's dinner, right at the source of the deep digitized, _faux_-falsetto voice. Granted, "she" still managed to stiffen my shoulders and shoot me dead still in my tracks. It was one of the staff droid as expected, but a particularly eccentric former M-3PO series, military protocol droid, easily identifiable by their clamshell-shaped helmets / heads, filled with sensors, and their black-hued frames. Naturally, I knew who it was by "her" voice alone, as "she" made quite the impression on me in my relatively short youth; "her" name was Bobby.

"_Mysteries_... Bobby. Please! Do not trespass around me stealthily so," I grated irritably in a low voice. Honestly, I needed to work on my sense of awareness; it was much too disturbing how easy I was to approach and be caught unawares, _amen_.

And **he **was the only droid I knew who insisted that his manufacturers had erred spectacularly so, for clearly he was meant to have been born a woman. ...due to my inexperience, I would not be able to offer commentary on the matter, until years later when he came to badger me about it. The reason: Bobby, in his vernacular, had a massive "Man Crush" on (his first love) -- _That Man_ -- and thus, he allowed himself to be requisitioned as a "souvenir" from the Clone Wars to join our household staff.

"Awww, you wound me, O' Sir! I am not that scary, riiiii-ght?"

Oh dear... What was with that unsettling girly, solicitous tone? I felt like my foot had just been caught in a bear-trap!

"Erm, pardon me... You see, I did not see the blue and white sparkle of your photoreceptors; hence, I became a little agitated, and feared the worst."

"Gosh, you are making me blush! I think, we can entrust a handsome young man, no, gentleman, just like you, to handle things beautifully, without the Great Bobby's advice! Break a leg, and _ta_-_ta_!"

Advice? Hey! What advice? Do not just leave me...ah.

Bobby left, the closing "clack!" of the door pounding the final nail in the metaphorical coffin I had climbed into, oh-so-dutifully. I wondered, perhaps, if my ability to affirm and damn near accept whatever may come was marking the beginning of a life-long marriage with trouble and misfortune? Still, no amount of hesitation would ever end my trepidation, so I did the only thing a soldier ought to do: suck it up and take another step forward into terror.

I found Zoldark curled up in a ball, sitting by the bedside. She made no move to acknowledge me, but I was hardly a fool to think she was not aware of me. A splinter of disappointment stabbed me, oddly, in the heart when I saw that the blue ribbon in her blonde hair was gone. Mayhap, I thought that the color of blue suited her so?

In any case, the act of starting a line of dialogue proved to be a task of Herculean proportions. Common courtesy failed me as I stood in the tense silence, frowning in agitation, for I felt it inappropriate to approach her too casually. Everyone had his or her circumstances, so I had been taught, and I realized to be true from my relatively short experience in the "real world", but I was never one to stand by idly and sulk in guilt. I started this mess, and as a dignified sentient, it was duty to take responsibility.

But...ah, starting a conversation with someone you hurt, inadvertently, is so absurdly difficult-!

_Growwwllllll_...

Well, dear me, _**someone **_was hungry, and try as I might, my body revolted against me. What was once a dire predicament had transformed into a laughing riot, such that I had difficulty standing upright, while the contents of the plate jingled about. Honestly, I worry too much when I ought to just act on the obvious!

"G-Good-ness, gr-gracious, your stubbornness is incorrigible!" I guffawed, setting the tray out in front of the girl. "Why I fear, _pfftt_, it may get you killed some day, _ner vod_! Do not, _ehe_-_he_, make me fret so, going a whole day without eating a scrap, is not befitting of a clever _mando_'_ad_."

Sure enough, Ryuune Zoldark could never back down, no matter how foul the mood may be, when her _manda_ was called into question, "Shut it, _di_'_kut_, unless you want to find my _boot _up your exhaust port."

"_Oya_! That is more like the _vod_'_ika_ I know. Say, 'tis that seat taken?"

"It's a floor and your flaming house, you dirt snorting _chakaar_."

The scathing hostility, cold as a knifepoint, made me wince, but I endured, nevertheless, to take my place beside her. It was the least I deserved.

"But, you know, it is a pinch less lonely to have someone beside you."

"Lonely?"

The Corellian hellcat snorted in derision. If this was not an obvious sign that my battle was to be uphill all the way, I did not know what else could be... I could feel it: the chasm between us widening, one that I had so painstakingly tried to bridge.

"You are the **worst**, Chrono Harlaown. Right from the first day we met: a conceited, sheltered golden boy! Do you even stop to use that glorified brain of yours to think about someone else's circumstances? I was fine being alone. I wanted to be alone!"

"...you are crying."

"Shut up! It's your _frakking_ fault too, _hic_... Wh, why. Why did you have to show me these things? I don't wait it. An, any of it! Kindness. Warmth. Friendship. Affection. Family. Love. Why the hell... Why the flaming _frak_ did you show me these things?"

Wh, what? I was bewildered because the way this trembling Zoldark spoke of those values, it was as if they were things to be condemned, forbidden. Why?

"I threw them away: _trash_. Any hope of it! Ca-carved into my heart, slashed and burned, memories not to be repeated, remembered... Erase them. Forget the me of yesterday! I wanted only to live in the now, no tomorrow, no yesterday, only the next battlefield. The black-acid smell of smoke, choking, ash seeping into my blood... _Boom_. _Boom_! War and Hell. Laugh. Cry. Rage. _Scream_! Together with pale despair, to the end of the galaxy! That's where I belong. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget. Disappear! So, I won't be hurt anymore... My heart. It hurts. W-why? It h-hurts, _hic_..."

"I am sorry."

Those words left my mouth so suddenly that even I was caught by surprise. The girl froze, as if struck, and for a moment nothing happened, as I reeled, trying to regain my own composure after saying such a foolish thing. She had to be furious. Mad! That I would have the gall to apologize, but now that I had done it, why should I turn back?

"I did not mean to make your heart waver by bringing you here. To remember... I -- I thought it would make you happy. I never, ever, had someone to call '_Friend_' before, though I was not alone, I still felt alone. I wondered if I was the only child like this in the stars, embraced but still longing... I am glad we met; it might have been only a short time, yet I desire to travel more with you. After all, today, I learned something about myself that just, maybe, brings us a little closer: you and I, probably... We are both _**murderers**_."

And that is why...

"Won't you be my friend, 'till the end?"

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.20 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. This one took a while, mostly, I think because of laziness and real life college works. I apologize if it came off uneven / just plain whacky, as I was inspired by Gintama and the Toradora! during writing this chapter. Technically, I could have just made it really angst heavy that'd be expected of the subject matter for the chapter, but...I thought dealing with it more "lightly" would be a touch more fun, since Chrono is home, and lord knows that mansion does make people act a "little crazy". Otherwise, hope you enjoyed the episode, and next time, we'll be concluding this arc and getting back to business.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	21. Entry 1 21: The Chariot

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.21:

The Chariot (VII)

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Sincerely, I think it has been an eternity since I had a breakfast, with "family and friends", then again, methinks the morning of Friday, Aprilis the 4th, T.C. 4654, would be one of the all too rare times before I would enjoy such an occasion again. It was unfortunate Grandmother and Grandfather could not be present. They did express grave regret at not being present at all the entire time I was home, but I knew better than the begrudge for such a thing. For those who possess power, time only brings about exponential chains of responsibility that one must carry, regardless of the bearer's feelings.

"_Mmm_~! Isn't today's weather just great? Mommy feels she made a perfect decision," Mother beamed in a sing-a-song tone, nodding at her own "apparent" genius(?). "_Hmm_, _mmm_, that's right! Today's just the day to go out on the town in: Lil' Vene~zia~!"

Her good cheer, though, was met by a round of subtly stiffening backs around our small dining table _du jour_ for three, the _manse_ having transported us to our own private aquarium through which the morning sun cast a bluish glow all around us. Beyond the thick acrylic glass, the denizens of the deep made their daily rounds in the vivacious kelp forest, and out of the corner of your eye on occasion, you may just spot the fabled merfolk peeking out from behind a curtain green. The majesty of it all was not lost even on a hard case like Ryuune Zoldark, caught somewhere between bewitched and fearful all at once, being surrounded by so much water. Understandably, being a Corellian, she had never been to the sea in her short life.

Still... Aye, my, me, I knew, this dreaded event was coming all along; delayed only by the shear force of misfortune, which upon such an auspicious day (seventy-two degrees Centigrade, clear sky), the Mysteries would hold back no longer. It was Spring, and the start of the season when the new Undine trainees would start making their appearance, along with the early train of tourists that would culminate into the bash of Summer. Shame; Ryuune and myself would probably miss it this year, granted I would make such a feat as convincing her to come to such the festival something of a personal crusade, before we graduated in just another two and half years time.

The sound of a double-tap chime in my thoughts, though, distracted me from an immediate verbal cessation to Mother. Across the table, a certain Corellian Hellcat clearly wanted a word or two, before she inevitably submitted to what was to come.

_Hey_. _What_'_s_ _this about_... I could see the agitated shudder in her jaw. ..._going out_? _And_. _Lil_' _Venezia_?

Obliged, I filled her in as brief and to the point as possible, a preferred efficiency for those of us in the business of war, but to see Ryuune Zoldark **pale** at...

_H-Hey_, _cut the phobium_. _Y-Y'er not_... _Se-rious_. _Right_? _Me_. _Civilians_. _Mingling_. _CROWDS_. _SHOPPING_? **DRESSES**! ..._Are you trying to get me __**killed**_?!

"_Uuuuu_..."

Suffice to say, our secret conversation completely failed the test of subtlety, as Mother was whimpering openly, heart wrenching tears coming to her almost magically so. If there was a metaphor that suited her watery-eyed expression, it was that of an abused puppy, complete with dog ears in fact (or was that a sleight of hand acquired headband?), and we must be villains of the blackest hearts to...

"L-L-Lin'_buir_, d-don't cry! P-Pl-please, please! I'll go; I'll go; promise!"

Like a punch to the gut, my jaw dropped, as the atmosphere took on an auspiciously happy shine. I could not believe how quickly Ryuune Zoldark just cracked under pressure from the relentless assault of my mother's tear ridden eyes, and her lonely-looking puppy impersonation. With a joyful cry, Mother all but darted out of her seat in a blur, arriving a heartbeat later by the blonde-haired girl's side (_sans_ "_neko mimi_" / cat ears), whom she proceeded to nuzzle with glee.

"This fellow is great~! Chrono dearest, you'd better treat her nice, 'kay?"

Understandably, the object of her affections was reacting like a cat to water, and trying her best not to scream, while her expression turned blue with black squiggly lines dribbling down from her cheeks. It made for an interesting contrast to the happy, lovely glittering atmosphere that clung around Mother, but even I knew better than to ignore the wordless cry for help (a timely distraction). If I did, the unspoken Grim Reaper that curiously resembled a certain Corellian hellcat, substituted with gleaming deathly red eyes, hovering above the delightful scene, would be spoken for I imagine at a later date.

But wait? Did she just call Mother, "Mama Lin"? ...cute. No! I mean, must be my delusions! Yes.

"Y-Yes, but, er, pardon my curiosity, Mother-"

"O~kay, Mommy forgives you!"

"Will it be just us or-"

"Of course not, Mommy invited her best friends too."

Her best friends? Wait...oh. Oh! So that's how it is.

* * *

The order of the day was to change over into casual clothes, and Captain Lindy Victoria Harlaown Le Fay was dead serious, meaning if you had jeans, wear them. Form up outside on the front of the _manse_ by 0900, er, I mean, nine o'clock sharp, and no later; anyone late will be subject to a penalty game, and anyone caught being too flashy would take a penalty game, too! That was all, and being obedient young soldiers, who would loathe to disappoint, I made sure to make my own appearance at least fifteen minutes early.

What confused me was the disappearance of Ryuune Zoldark. Well, not so much disappearance in the literal sense but more so: why was she not out here already? earlier? or at the same moment as myself? I assure you we had nothing close to a passionate rivalry in the legendary realm shared by the likes of Mother and Captain Lowran. Still, it was odd.

"I wonder what delays her?" I murmured, inspecting myself over once more.

Jean-Pierre had left me at the doors, taking his leave to carry out his other duties, after giving me look-see himself: khaki trousers, plain shoes, light blue shirt with sleeves up and left unbuttoned to be a decorative jacket, and white T-shirt. I was still fashion illiterate due to my relative youth and upbringing, but he assured me I would be able to pass for a ordinary citizen easy, until someone would start to actually pay strict scrutiny to myself. He told me you could dress a wolf in sheep's skin but a wolf was still a wolf, ergo an unalienable truth.

Again, I wished my older compatriots would not use idioms that flew completely over my hand and expected me to understand them by myself. It would be cycles down the line before I understood that one and many more "pearls of wisdom" spilled out onto my plate.

_KRAK_**-BAM**.

If the sudden noise had been the explosion of a thermal detonator or anything that remotely resembled an explosion, I assure you I would have been the first person to kiss the dirt. Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau (Mysteries! I am going to shake the habit of referring to him like that one of these days) had drilled "Incoming!" into my training platoon quite adamantly, up to the point where we could recognize a small plethora of weapons by sound alone. Our squad bay was **never **quiet when we were on deck, including bed time. Either you learned to sleep with the "noise", or you would not sleep at all.

"_Gyahhh_!" came a familiar feminine shriek, "Lem'me go! Lem'me go! I'm not gonna... Not gonna go out like this!"

"_Mou_, now don't be shy! Mama Lin is absolutely, one-hundred percent serious that you're perfect!"

WHAT!

I am sure Mother did not have a predilection for drama. If anything, it was shear natural genius! Out through the flung open doors came Mother, happy as can be, dressed quite youthfully (and I dare say to impress?), and in her wake, the second surprise of the day that made my jaw drop. I do not know how they do it, but once again, the staff had succeeded utterly into transforming Ryuune Zoldark the Corellian Hellcat into a bonafide little angel; the fact, she was forced to ride out on a cushion of air at Mother's behest only helped to improve her image.

A magnolia white sundress, beach sandals (and is that a fresh pedicure and nail polish?), a matching dainty purse and shawl for comfort, and a fashionable summer straw hat complete with a long blue ribbon: she, the advent of a "Little Miss Sunshine" without a doubt. Naturally, Mother dropped her off right beside me, the radiant palmtop hellcat, bereft of her nigh-impenetrable armor of tomboy, seemed more feminine than ever. Understandably, the girl gave a cattish yowl upon landing, retreating hastily under the brim of her straw hat trembling.

Perhaps, she did not like to show off skin? I did not see anything wrong, in particular, about her dress that may constitute indecency, so why all the fuss and flustered curls?

"S-Stop starin' at me!" Ryuune mewled out almost too adorably.

It was so powerful that I was taken aback with a hasty cough, "S-Sorry, I was but-"

"See, see? It really suits you. _Tee hee hee_, why don't you give him a little twirl for extra points?" giggled Mother in a giddy high, as she descended the steps. With her ponytail tied low, tailing along under the brim of her cowboy hat, I would have to say her image was clearly that of the unbelievably energetic country girl from the Amerian "Wild West". "Mama Lin knows her baby boy best. Follow Mommy's lead and you'll have his heart in no time~!"

"Wh-Who! Who'd want a _flaming _idiot durasteel-head that attracts trouble like a burning exhaust port?"

"But, y'know, what's life without adventure, Ryu~Ryu?"

I suspect something monumental happened in the past hour and a half that I was not a part of, unfortunately, between those two "women". Then again, considering the many unpleasant travails of the past week, methinks it was an acceptable outcome, as the situation in front of me turned into a surrogate familial debate of sorts. The dilemma was I would prefer to have advance warning of any potentially awkward schemes about to explode in my face.

"Ah, someone's late," Mother remarked all of a sudden.

"H-Hey! Changing the subject already? That's cheating!" Ryuune blurted out, red-faced. Now, why on earth was she still using her "summer hat" as a shield against me, I wonder? Was it not awkward to argue with someone while holding an object out at arm's length to ward off another?

"But they're really-really late, really~!" my mother went on without missing beat, indicating to her charm bracelet, an eccentric trinket adorned with gold, silver, glass, and LED beads. Shaking her wrist, an unexpectedly nondescript small holographic display lit up showing us the time and date. Funny: I was expecting something a lot more cutesy to be frank. "_Mou_, and _That Tiger Girl_ even swore all high and mighty she'd be here on sharp this time."

"'_Tiger Girl_'? Who's that?"

Ah, someone was failing to realize she was contradicting herself. But, oh well, it was a good change of subject as any, considering Ryuune stopped, finally, using her summer hat for a shield and wore it as it should be. ...I have to admit it; the "Little Miss Sunshine" look suited her certainly.

"Oh, the kind of childhood friend who never grew past _Sorcery and Mysteries_."

"Huh?"

"The best game for kids to grow up with, uh-huh," nodded Mother, with a wink.

"Eh... I really don't get it," at least that what I assumed Ryuune's lips murmured mutely in turn, as she lowered her gaze in awkward ignorance.

"Ah-a~ah! Don't worry, Mama Lin will play with you, before bedtime tonight."

"Eehhhhhhh!" that she blurted out aloud.

"Now, let's see if I can get a hold of..."

"M-Ma'am, I-"

"Oh!"

Mother must have seen the distant flock of avians scattering into the air, for when I turned to follow her line of sight, my own eyes caught the gleam of metal in the sun. The muted purr of a distinctive set of repulsorlift engines greeted us next as the gleam materialized into a rugged, robust Arrow-23 transport landspeeder, a favorite of civilians and soldiers alike. Featuring military-grade armor, blaster-resistant windows, and a top speed of four-hundred kilometers per hour, thankfully it bared our house colors and lacked the more military upgrade packages I am used to seeing. Arrow-23s from where I stand usually are armed with a single laser cannon or a concussion grenade launcher; both of which can be aimed from within the safety of the craft.

The macabre delusion that we were about to become the victims of a hit-and-run assaulted my thoughts briefly, before I banished them away. Absolute nonsense I tell you...but _real_.

Soon enough, the landspeeder taxied to a stop before us, engines shutting off on an almost mellow note, before the side entry hatch hissed open. Voices from inside the cabin became immediately audible, oddly enough; in fact, there seemed to be quite the commotion because the Arrow-23 was rocking about in a surly manner. I was tempted to go investigate myself when a sudden curiosity came flying out: a head.

"Well, how rude!" cried the airborne dismembered clam shell-shaped head with an eerily familiar voice. That over-the-top effeminate tone...could it be?

"Ah, Bobby~!" Mother wailed histrionically, moving to intercept at once.

"Huh? Oh, could it be, could it be? 'O Lady? 'O Lady~!"

Naturally, she caught it, causing the scene to change shift, metaphorically, to a dazzling display of warmth and flowers, as if the moment in time was a happy reunion long in the making. For myself, I could not resist the tic that infected my brow instantly with an unhealthy twitch; a reaction that I noted was replicated in Ryuune's scowl. Our mutual verbal reaction in synch was:

"What the _frak_ is _that_?"

"So cruel! Oh, Bobby my sweet, who did this to you?"

"'O Lady, 'O My Fair Lady, it was so terrible~!"

Further elucidation on Bobby's part was halted by a most untimely feminine yowl that remarkably replicated the ferocity and immense primal pressure of a _hrosma_ tiger! The landspeeder shook, and all was deathly quiet, then a low pained moan:

"_Muuuuhh_...n-never again! The Great Leti will die, definitely, absolutely, if the great me has to do that again..."

The first feminine voice I did not recognize but the latter masculine voice, its owner emerging from the hatch, was...

"S-Sorry, Missus Lowran, but-"

"It's not Missus! It's Miss Lowran, you useless dragon!"

...Lieutenant-Commander Tetsuya Onodera (as expected) in the flesh, with one sickly-faced Captain Leti Lowran draped upon his shoulders, piggyback style. I never met the latter before but immediately I was struck by two things: first, the lady's beauty, whom resembled my mother as such that they could pass for sisters, though I would rather not get into the hairy argument of their three sizes. Second, the _command mantra_ tattoo prominent on her forehead was similar in design to Mother's, save it bore triangle seals on the east and west, facing inwards, while seals in the shape of "eyes", tapered at either end into sharp points, aligned vertically to north and south. And of course, they were inked to match the amethyst color of hair, just like how Mother's seals matched hers, too.

The latter feature, clearly, distinguished her as more than just a beautiful face but an eminent magus; a _magi_ with sizably deep pockets. _Command Mantras_ hailed from the venerable magical theory of _symbology_, and are considered the high masterpieces in the art, for unlike conventional symbols they require no invocation to activate. Able to generate a variety of phenomena at great "outputs", they are suffice to say quite exhausting and expensive to manufacture; thus, only a select community of individuals possess them.

Fashionably speaking, Captain Lowran had gone the opposite direction of Mother and was the definitive "city girl" in business casual, though I had to wonder... Were those glasses she wore genuinely necessary? In our fantastic day and age, it was already child's play to have one's vision corrected to standard, if not enhanced to be far superior.

"Erm, my apologies..." Tetsuya colored faintly at the oddly affectionate rebuke. He, too, was dressed casually for the occasion but the presence of his khaki utility vest gave the hint that he was prepared for a hike and worse.

I wonder why?

"Tet~su~ya!" Mother entered the fray with a coquettish lilt, having handed Bobby's head off to me. The sound of her voice diverted the poor man's attention clear away from the grousing tiger woman on his back, leaving him blissfully unaware he had just been caught "between a rock and hard place" in beautiful metaphor.

"Ah, C-Captain, it's good to see you."

"_En~chante_!"

"Sorry about your droid, but we were running late and so-"

"Now, you don't have to say anymore because I bet _that_ clumsy tiger is the **bad **reason, isn't she?"

Well, now, _that_'s rare. I was not aware that this particular facet of Mother could carry a conversation, without being her usual "extraordinarily cutesy" self.

"Who's clum-sy.._urghhhh_...ah, how unsightly. The great me feels sick," Captain Lowran groaned miserably. I wonder why she was referring to herself in third person? It was rather --- eccentric. "Thank the Mysteries, my little Griffith isn't here to see his '_Number One Mother in the Universe_' like this. The Great Leti, who sleeps through parent-teacher conferences because they're too damned slow, would be shamed into the shadow of thunderstorms!"

I glanced over at Ryuune, and her response, expressed plainly on her face, defined my reaction exquisitely so:

WHAT...?

"I think your lil' Griffy would be mortified if he knew his mommy wasn't what she sold herself to be on the package. The vision of discipline and zealous professionalism! Perfection. Elegance. Symmetry, oh my~!"

"Guh...! T-Tetsuya, you dr-dragon, say something!"

Such a suggestion, Tetsuya could not refuse clearly, for he winced at the amethyst-haired woman's lustrous manicured nails digging into his shoulders. "Ah, well... I was surprised that Missus Lowran-"

"It's not Missus; it's MISS Lowran, _urrghmmm_, dam-mit!"

"Er, well, her true self was something else from the image she projected. It's... quite interesting really."

Mother laughed, pleased apparently at the tiny blow dealt to her self-proclaimed childhood rival-friend's ego, "See, I told you she was _to-ra-bu-ru_, Tetsu~ya!"

"Tet-Tetsuya!" Captain Lowran pounced back with a vengeance, instantly, red face with embarrassment, "You useless dragon! Ugh..._oooo_. I'm, n-never letting you drive again!"

Suffice to say, the situation before myself and Ryuune unraveled into something, so I was told by the droid in my arms, which resembled a love-comedy sitcom, minus the physical tugging and pulling. Bobby, humming aloud in delight, confessed "she" was responsible partially for scheming the above drama because "she" could not resist playing Cupid for a tiny bit. Thus, "she" did not mind terribly that Captain Lowran had decapitated him during her fit back in the speeder. As for the poor man at the center of the storm, methinks Mister Onodera deserved a medal honestly for his sacrifice to the good of all.

I should be remorseful for getting him into this situation, but since he did volunteer of his own volition to be thrown into the maelstrom, please do not think less of me for not being more sympathetic.

Still, such a happy scene could not last forever, namely because Ryuune Zoldark hated to be left out of the loop. Clearing her throat, a most disgustingly grotesque noise that left me appalled on the spot for it was without a doubt unladylike behavior to the hilt, she caught the attention of the frolicking adults. Their heads immediately snapped to attention, like an artillery shell had detonated nearby, but Captain Leti Lowran stole the hour once again.

"_UOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH_?!" she hollered, wide-eyed, leaping off Tetsuya, as if powered by an ejection seat. The poor man, fortunately, managed to keep his balance.

Faced with a such an awesome reaction that cut her off prematurely, the young Corellian hellcat froze up, unbelievably so, making herself an easy to target for the grasping paws of the veteran Mid-Childan tigress. Her previous fatigue gone, and indeed I was stunned by both her sudden approach, a blur of amethyst, and miraculous recovery, she hauled the girl up by underneath her armpits. Ryuune howled, not in agony, but in spontaneous laughter for she was struck by a most insidious tickling attack by Captain Lowran, as the woman pirouetted about, effortlessly.

"What, what, what, what's this? Who **is **this?!" she said aloud, her glasses catching a most odd gleam in the sun. I was reminded of a mad scientist looming over an operating table where her next fearful victim, bound and gagged, struggled and screamed helplessly.

"_Gyah_...! Ah..._tee hee hee_...y-you...ahahaha!"

"Hey, yous: stupid Chihuahua and useless Dragon! Blonde hair, blue eyes... Is this your secret love child you've been sneaking behind Leti the Great? ...THAT'S CHEATING!"

...huh?

"I, the Great Leti whose roar shakes the Heavens, want a baby kitten girl like this too!"

Suffice to say, jaws dropped and faces turned beet red at such a bold declaration. Just what in the Mysteries was this woman? The only person who seemed to come close to her type that I could think of was Nagi Dai Artai, but unlike himself, she was throwing her ego around like it was a badge authority or some such.

"L-let, _tee hee hee_, le'go of, _pffttt_, me, y-you... You old hag!"

Instead of the temperature dropping, as one ought to expect in such a classic escalation, someone seemed to turned the thermostat level up to "INFERNO". I came to learn fast that Captain Leti Lowran was not the type to let her anger run cold; oh, no. She was the type of stubborn hardcore "_daughter of a bastard_" who was always at her best, pardon the possible pun, "at climax!" (whatever that means).

"Old...h-hag. Old. Hag, huh?!" hissed the sharp-eyed woman, revealing a gleaming feral smile, "Isn't that some great guts you got there, little cub? Good."

With those parting words, Captain Lowran dropped the Corellian hellcat and leapt aside, parallel to my gawking mother and the Zipang dragon, clearing valuable space in a flash before the girl even landed on the ground. Projecting a faint murderous air, she looked every bit the part of a tiger, awesomely so.

"Then I, Countess Leti Valere Lowran of _The Chariot (VII)_, challenge you to a test of valor!"

Oh, Blood and Ashes! What a disaster! Now, it makes perfect sense: that ego, that appearance, that influence, and that...

"Everyone, outta the way! Harlaown, _here_: watch the stuff."

"O Sir, it might be _smart _to follow what the little lady says," Bobby chipped in, with a worried tone.

With a thunderclap, the countess slammed her open palm into the white cobblestone pavement, heaven and earth seemingly shook, as day turned into night(!). Inscribed spontaneously onto the ground at Captain Lowran's feet, encompassing her, was a glowing magic circle, unlike any I had ever seen before: a pair of concentric circles, rotating in opposite directions that framed a perfect diamond. Visible in the band formed between the circles (aside from the triangles made from the intersecting lines and curves), an archaic glyph, unique to each of the four sides, to which they appeared to represent the four fundamental elements(?).

I did not get an additional moment to examine the circle for the air became frenzied with brilliantly crackling electricity, forcing me to scurry away instinctively to relative safety. Of course, Mother and Tetsuya saw to their own refuge, too, but glancing over at them, I was stunned to see there was naught an ounce of anxiety on Mother's face at all. If anything, she looked annoyed, and it was the poor man beside her who expressed concern on his strained countenance.

A roar pierced the moment, drawing my attention back to Countess Lowran, as she rose up to her feet. Pulsing visibly, the magic circuits in her right arm were all aglow, creeping all the way up to her face: a column of orange flame sprouting spontaneously from the ground. Light and shadow were cast about, dancing in the firelight, as a black silhouette took shape within.

"Hnn...ah! Good, the carbon concentration is just right. Turn up the heat! That's it; that's it! Yes! _Athanor_: synthesis complete!"

With that command, the countess snatched the object out of the flame, shattering the spectacle in an instant. The night gave way back to day, and the only evidence of her work was the faint of motes of spent _mana_, to which I saw Mother mouthed plain as day "Show off, _mou_", with a dead fish-eyed stare. Brandished proudly in her hand was a weapon, too short for an adult, but seemingly just the right size for a child: by my reckoning, a partizan affixed to rich oakwood and adorned with a small amethyst standard, bearing a gold trim. The spearhead made of a most curious metal that showed off a visible grain pattern, not unlike the ridges of a fingerprint, and possessed of a resinous luster.

"I won't bother with tiresome specifics," Lady Lowran tossed the partizan over to Ryuune, "but you'll get used to my partizan real quick; after all, it's the same one I used when I was your age, and my eye says we're a pretty _alpha _match."

I thought it amazing she remembered how to create a weapon from that long ago off the top of her head, but more importantly, what manner of magic was this? You see, if it was an obvious enough by the fireworks in my eyes, I had been inspired by her feat of magic.

As for the Corellian girl, she was not impressed in the slightest by the spectacle, catching the partizan one-handed. The air hummed whilst Ryuune Zoldark maneuvered the two-handed polearm with surprising ease and grace, before slamming the weighted spike-tipped butt into the cobbled pavement with dire finality. Somehow, I thought it more beautiful she was doing such an awesome thing in little more than sandals and a sundress, and true to the Countess' words, the partizan was an ideal match.

"Don't worry, Old Hag; as long as you're not cheating, I won't hold back when it comes to kicking _shebs_!"

"You blind brat, I know you're squinting at the Great Leti's magnificence beneath the morning sun that breaths the soul back into all who bare witness, but _that_'s genuine Damascus steel! A work of art crafted by my-"

"Who cares about some expensive thing when you have vibro blades?"

"Ehhhhhhhh! Barking is cheap. C'mon, c'mon! Show me what you've got, _girl_!"

"Don't hafta say so, _woman_!"

Their nigh ritualistic preamble over, a custom only possible in a "civilized" duel, the two lionesses charged at each other. The younger of the two had no set form for her weapon but she held it abreast as such that it was naturally most advantageous to wield. Why the Countess had obliged Ryuune with such a courtesy; the only answer I could think of was "to be fair". Clearly, there was a huge disparity in height, but to take on an armed opponent, no matter how young, who did not fear combat, Leti Lowran must be a _meister _of more than just magic.

But, wait, when charging someone armed with a melee weapon, in particular, would it not be smart to create a...

"_Hiyoooooo_! An opening!"

I see, so she **is **a "cheater".

"_Che_! YOU-"

Kicking off both pumps she wore into impromptu projectiles, Ryuune found herself surprised by a pair of women's footwear that flew with surprising accuracy. Clearly, it was not the first time the countess had attempted such a "clever" maneuver, and her younger counterpart was forced to think fast. Evade or defend: neither choices seemed particularly attractive against a seasoned opponent. Could instinct prevail over experience?

"It's not enough to be strong; you need a good head on your shoulders too!"

With an irritated snarl, the Corellian girl went whole hog, batting aside the projectiles with careful parries, while stepping forward boldly. It was an insane maneuver, for she was not optimal striking range, but here so she did an ingenious thing, shooting the partizan up and forwards, barely holding onto the spiked butt in a two handed grip. Her reach had near tripled and striking now with her entire body, screaming!

_Whoosh_!

The reckless blow missed; Countess Lowran, scarcely batting an eye, as she step aside from the deadly arc and leapt through gracefully like a ballerina in beautiful form. I could not call the act a martial technique at all considering how extravagantly she displayed herself. Her eyes so clear and sharp had seen through the wager, with hesitation, and so she landed on one foot astride Ryuune's line of attack, well within reach of her long nimble legs. But the only warning she received of an unexpected development was...

_**Crack**_.

A feat of strength and simple physics, the Corellian cat had outdone herself, breaking the shaft of the partizan in twain. As Ryuune rose up to recover, the countess in turn pirouetted in place and her right leg snaked out, a striking serpent, to coil around the girl-child's throat. With the height difference, it would be easy to leverage and toss her to the ground, but such a move Ryuune sensed. The broken end of the shaft switched to one hand, her free hand shot up abruptly to intervene.

Silence.

"_Hah_...but....the most important thing....Tiger Lady...is to never give up. A zero-point-zero-zero-one percent chance is still a chance! The will to survive, to keep fighting with all you've got! That's my victory!"

It was all over. Yes, she was off balance, back arching uncomfortably so. Countess Leti Lowran held her hostage in a standing leglock by the neck, an amazing feat of balance and strength, and was ready to still toss the girl straight to the pavement. Ryuune Zoldark's arm had held off the possibility of a knee choke (of all things), but the real threat was the jagged, broken end of the partizan's shaft that hovered just centimeters away from the amethyst-haired woman's thigh.

Had it been true combat: neither of the lioness would be prowling the savannah anymore this day, I suspect.

And so, the Countess of the Chariot brow knitted together and she gave a huff, a clear end to hostilities as set the one who had caught her "interest" back straight and stepped back. Ryuune, too, tossed the broken shaft away, and in a surprisingly feminine gesture checked herself over; the action, oddly, emulated as well in her older counterpart, making them seem like a pair of grooming "big cats". Then, without a word, they made eye contact and smiled. An convivial air of warmth blooming spontaneously, it was like two wild animals had recognized each other at last, realizing that they spoke the same language.

The boundary between child and adult ceased to be, just for a moment, before...

"_KYAAAAAHHH_! I like this fellow!"

So did the tigress, Leti Lowran, exclaim with joy, swooping up the little hellcat into a boisterous hug, cuddling cheek to cheek.

"She's the best! Hey, hey, Lindy! If she doesn't marry your Chrono, can I arrange a marriage interview for my little Griffith? He needs a strong girl just like this to make a _**real **_man among men out of him!"

Giving out a near wounded roar, Ryuune responded in kind as the receiver of her affections.

"_ARRRRRRRGHHHHHH_! No, no, no! It stinks! It-it stinks~! G-Ge'er offffa meeeeeeeee! NOoooooo~!"

There was nothing we could but smile and wave like happy fools at the frolicking zoo animals.

---

The sea.

Time: 1545, excuse me, a quarter till four in the afternoon, so did the nearest timepiece (a lamppost with accompanying clock face, analog, antiquated, classy?) available read to my eyes.

The salty spray in the air.

The sea gulls cawing as they glided about beautiful, clear skies.

In such ideal conditions, I pondered in anxiety, how was it possible I ended up alone with Countess Leti Lowran!? Yes, she and I, sitting alone together for a break amongst one of many assorted piers, facing the crystalline aqua waters, under the canopy of an umbrella, with milk shakes for company on the table. Oh, and we must not forget a stack of "souvenirs", mostly clothes and other feminine things that I, Bobby, and Lieutenant-Commander Tetsuya Onodera had been obligated to carry. Thankfully, it was not as big as the monstrous landfill it used to be prior to all of us figuring it was best to take loads of it back to the landspeeder in-between shopping sprees at various boutiques.

I was glad we had brought the Arrow-23 along for its ample cargo capacity of eight-hundred kilograms was an indispensible asset!

Now, why are we shopping so much that I feel inclined to blow it up into grandiose metaphor? Well, bear in mind I have never been on a shopping spree in the company of sanguine females before, especially not Mother, and, erm, not that I think it was bad thing... You see, Mother and Countess Lowran... They were not buying anything for themselves. Oh, no! They were attempting to spoil Ryuune Zoldark, the Tomboy Extraordinaire, _rotten_.

Every single article of fashionable clothing, accessory, footwear, must-have's, girlish things to complement a royal princess' wardrobe; they hit every boutique, store, and beauty parlor, I swore, known to the female mind and connoisseurs in Little Venezia, racking in expenses I dare not to even calculate! The numbers would surely drive me mad, too. Why they were going through such bombastic lengths to doll her up escaped my imagination utterly so, and it was only just forty-five minutes ago that the two childhood friends-of-sorts declared the end of business for the day.

Alas, there was no peace to be found, for Mother then snatched up both the unsuspecting Mister Onodera and the worn out Corellian hellcat, declaring they would return in hours or so time. The reason: they were heading over to the Aria Company for a short Undine tour of the waterways. It was quite the gale force tail wind she left behind in her wake, sending skirts and hats flying from unsuspecting bystanders.

Thusly, I was left stranded with a slack jawed Leti Lowran, fuming up a black storm complete with fire in the skies and thunderbolts. Bobby was nowhere to be found, having left a helpful sticky note on my back, directing me to a location to relax, while "she" dealt with the majority of our purchases. How kind of him to leave behind just a fraction for us to carry around until "she" rejoined us later.

"_Boy_, do you realize how many conventions of common etiquette you are violating?" the countess engaged me suddenly in a steely formal, controlled voice. "Feigning silence and refusing to entertain a lady are intolerably disgusting behavior to be seen in a gentleman of your station."

Suffice to say, I was mortified red to my toes. We had been in a cold war for the better part of the half an hour sitting there, and, _erm_, I was intimidated by her --- _awesome _presence, to say the least. You see, Mother's words earlier had been a foreboding that had come true with brutal reality, for I had been thrown naked into the den, no, the **court** of an immensely different Leti Lowran of the Chariot, a complete paradigm shift! Her transformation, in fact, must have taken place the moment we had stepped out of the landspeeder and subsequently into the eye of the public; before then, she had been "smoking and joking" along with everyone in the cabin. I just failed to notice the difference at all as her attention had not been directed at me.

And now, I was paying for it...

"F-Forgive me, l-l..."

"_Ma_'_am_. Do have some consideration, _boy_."

Mysteries, did her glasses just flash just now with a starry glint?

"If that is too much for you, hmmm, I think one of Tetsuya Onodera-_han_'s customs, from his homeland of Zipang, should suffice. Yes. Leti-_sama_ will do."

S-sama?!

"A term of high respect, and I think we are well acquainted enough to allow the use of my first name, boy."

"A-As you wish," I conceded, shying away under the piercing intensity of her sharp gaze, despite my best effort. How strange; I had no problems holding my bearing with SNCOs and officers, but I was unsettled genuinely to be in the tiger woman's presence.

"_Tsk_."

Not because I was afraid of her, but because I did not want to make a bad impression. Certainly, I had questions I wanted to ask...

"If you have questions of me, is that not a good excuse for idle conversation as any?" she posed to me in all seriousness.

"Yes, but I would not wish to im-"

Her brow twitched with the faintest beginnings of a scowl. "Ask."

It was not a suggestion but an order, see?

"Well, I am not too bold, why do you wear a mask?"

"A mask?" she raised a curious brow. The rising ire I sensed in her coiling demeanor began to flow away.

"A face for the inside, and a face for the outside. Mother, I would assume you know her circumstances, but as for yourself..."

"When you got my age, _hmph_," the countess favored me with a secretive smile, as she and I were privy to a private joke, "what used to be a mask eventually becomes a part of you."

I felt myself frown ever so slightly, "I-Is that so?"

"People have many masks. As you age and form more relationships with others, the number of mask you have increases."

"Hnn."

"Well, that is bit one of life's many little toppings. _My turn_."

"P-Pardon?"

"A question for a question is only fair, is it not?"

I would have appreciated a more in-depth explanation, but I suppose I can handle this one on my own --- I think.

"Did you like what you saw?"

"...ah?" I flushed, ears burning red. Somehow, that felt rather...promiscuous.

"Silly boy, the art, not the women."

"Th-the art?"

"You want to learn it, do you not? After all, you will begin to take your first steps as a sorcerer in a few short days, and even a fool boy like you must have an ambition in mind."

"Me? An ambition?"

"What kind of _magi_ do you want to become, Young Chrono?"

The answer came a lot quicker than I expected, speaking with an uncanny certainty.

"He, invincible under the sun and untouchable as the moon, piercing the heavens."

And lo, Leti Lowran chuckled, a rich, veiled noblewoman's mirth that left a sparkle in her sharp eyes.

"Then, allow me to impart to you with the first of many of birthday gifts. I have one prepared just for you, but this one comes first, a favor from Tetsuya Onodera-_han_: an heirloom passed down from your late father."

..TH-...a gift from _That Man_!?

"I present to you: _The Core Drill_."

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.21 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. Things are pretty self evident here. Lots of WAFF and some comedy to sugar coat the sprint of character development. And yes, a special "item" makes its appearance at last. Look forward to the next episode as we get back to the Battle School for more character driven goodiness, and if I pace this right, we ought to be able to see the grand graduation exam arc soon enough. After that, next stop: a little desert hell hole we all know and love --- Tatooine --- for "Airborne" School.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	22. Vision 1 1: My Enemy?

* * *

_Contract_.

_Fate_.

What is it they have in common? The answer to that lies in... the pledge of "_Life_", a spark of genius that exists in the most humble little killer to the conflicted sentient, all wound together in a spiral: infinite, endless, forevermore. But even the eternal spiral has a "Root", the "Origin of Law", the "Zero" from where all possibilities began. By accepting the spiral within and without, the Contract has been enacted and the threads of many Fates intertwined, for none is a spiral unto themselves, will begin to unfold in earnest. Do not fear, for all that is asked is that one who pledges abide by the Contract, and assume responsibility for the choices made.

Time never waits, delivering all equally to the same end: dust to dust, ashes to ashes. No more may you hide from The Hunter who pursues His true self. Within your possession is another He, your bond to Him for which distance is of no importance. You, who seek The Answer, are not prepared.

A fog descends over your _Destiny_...

Now, lend Us your ears, and listen closely to the words of wise men, for their words illuminate the searching darkness in our lives like the light of the Sun.

"_Regarding Enemies_"...

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Vision 1-1:

_Where is my Enemy_?

This Episode brought to you by Person with Many Aliases

Preface and Edits by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

I would not like to think my beginnings were sad or emotionally traumatic. Or rather, I wish it would not have been. It seems that if a person commits inappropriate conduct of some large magnitude, it is merely a matter of looking back to some disheartening childhood in order to "understand" the plight of a monster who is suddenly as much a victim as any other he has harmed.

I find it trivial and cliché. "We are men of action. Words do not become us".

Nonetheless, I suppose that is how my life began. It is hard to describe the circumstances surrounding by birth and early childhood. I was informed something about how a child's memory initial records visually, and once one learns the concept of language, that portion of our life becomes inaccessible, because we lose our ability to think with images in favor of words. But I try my best to describe the sensations I felt.

The moment I was born, I was acutely aware of myself, as well as myself, and twenty two others of myself, older than time itself, scattered...

It is hard to explain. Children are not intended to be initially aware of the concept of infinity or of a universe of such proportion, that one means nothing in it, yet that was the first sensation I had to feel, even before the embrace of a mother. There was myself, and myself, and twenty-two others... so far away... so far away, my young mind... it was so far away, in every direction. Like a hand I could not see, but attached across the light years, into my mind. Sitting somewhere, collecting dust, or trading hands, or being bartered for.

That is the first thing I can say about my childhood. Again, my distaste for blaming my life on a poor childhood, but I assume that is what happened. I lived alone. I do not recall my parents. I either murdered or scared off everyone, due to my Rare Skill, as I was taught later to identify it as.

The Fool's Journey. Persona. "Be your true mind".

I have a strange sensation that phrase does not have proper grammar.

...That sounds a bit... Even as a child, I seemed to have been ridiculously clear sighted. Perhaps it is a side effect of being myself, myself, and twenty two others, in twenty two different places at once, and understanding I was in twenty four places at once. It most likely requires being born with a strong mind to withstand that idea.

That was how I was, living alone, more clear sighted than a normal human being should have been, and coldly accepting the stark truth of it all, that I was approached by The Order of the Useless Sword. In their language, it is pronounced "_Orden de la Espada Inútil_".

* * *

"Neh, neh, get up, Il For~tay..."

They say that Nyx is a primordial goddess of the night. It perhaps says something about me. I certainly feel the darkness is a pleasing sensation, but for the moment, the point I am trying to make, by evoking such mythological imagery, is that, as the darkness is my realm, I have difficulty adjusting and agreeing with the concept that night must turn back to day.

I must be trying to over-define. Simply put, I am not a morning person. I abhor the idea that I must get up when the day hours have begun.

"Il Forte! Today's very important! You promised you would try to wake up early today!"

Gentle, but firm prodding. It helps somewhat.

"Hmmmrggghh..."

Despite the possible severity of the situation, she giggles, "Ah, it's only in these few hours that you never have the energy to be so eloquent, hmm, Il For~tay?"

I may have forgotten to introduce myself, but that is my name, Il Forte. The woman who is currently helping out of bed and sliding some robe over my nightwear is Roxana Bromista. You should be acquainted with her, before anything else. She is my confidante, mentor, teacher, servant, bodyguard, cook, surrogate familial tie, and anything else she feels is required to ensure my healthy, safe existence. She is probably about five years older than me, I believe fifteen at this point of time. When she is in a good mood, she seems to believe my name is some form of word game, and derives great pleasure in experimenting with the various ways she can tie "Il Forte" around her tongue. It's a curious phenomenon.

When I first aligned myself with Espada, some years ago, it was not long they introduced her to me, giving her general instructions along the line of surrendering all and any future ambitions she had in order to indefinitely indenture herself to me. She seems to have wholeheartedly agreed.

Nyx is not psychic, or an empath, but the heightened senses she relays to me insist that Roxana has accepted and is enjoying her job, caring and educating me in the ways of Espada. I am very grateful for her continued presence. I make it known at irregular intervals.

"Ah, did you have a bad dream last night, Il For~tay?" she says, helping me with some elements of my wardrobe, "You need to reassure that you need me?"

"It was most likely nothing more than a recollection of my childhood. Or what I believe to be my childhood. But simply, I am grateful, simply because of what you have given up for me."

She puts the finishing touches on the clasp that holds a cape together around me. "There's no need to worry about that, Il Forte! I told you many times already. I may have had my reservations, but now, I am more than happy simply being by your side and watching you grow, Il For~tay~. Now, do you remember what you have to do today?"

"Yes. My baptism."

* * *

From what I have learned, the Time Space Administration Bureau tries to downplay the Espada's existence before the galaxy, naming us as "terrorists" or "insurgents". There is a degree of truth to it, but the information suppression is more for another reason.

Espada is not an organization. It is a thought, nay culture. Nay even that, Espada is a civilization. A group of peoples that live on chain of migrant fleets, an entire lifestyle that exists for one ultimate end: The overturning and eventual destruction of the current universe, to make way for "Outer Heaven". For others it would be a scary thought, a civilization that seeks to destroy rather than build. But that is what we are. We most likely even have justified our purpose with noble reasons, like "cleansing" or "rectifying" the inequality of this universe.

I am unsure exactly how many people living in the fleets of "_Cruzadas_" are actually proponents or believers of Espada, but only Espada can enter or live in the great Craft World, "_Reino del Cielo_".

I have lived there with Roxana the moment I met the Espada.

Because of my ability, and my decision to wholeheartedly to follow their ideals, I believe my baptism will mark me in history, at the very least, as the youngest person to join the ranks of Espada. In truth, I have been Espada in all but name. Everybody knows that. It is only a matter now of receiving the mask they have crafted out to fit me.

"'ey, 'ey, 'ey, ain't it the li'l prince himself!"

On the streets of the Ciudad zone, a particular 'associate' drops from the sky to meet us.

"Avestruz Travador." I say, acknowledging. He is jovial enough. Even now, the circumstances surrounding how he came to regularly approach us, I am unsure, but at some point, he insisted, and eventually stayed as a regular presence. He does not threaten me, and he is company. I have no reason to disengage from socializing from him.

Ah, Avestruz! What are you doing here?" Roxana manages to ask nicely. It wasn't so much a matter of hostility against him then it was simply putting my interests first, which in this case, was making it to the ceremony in time.

Avestruz leaned back, a hand on a hip, another snapping a pointed finger at us, "Oi, oi, no crime in letting a fan meet Il Forte now, is it? Some talkin' goin' around. They say you gonna get your mask today, yeah? Gonna really Espada yourself now!"

We walk onward to the most fortified sections of the ship, Castillo, where I was to be recognized. All the while, we converse.

"Even though I am to be an Espada, my magical ability is still lacking. Currently I am still only considered '_Difunto_', at best. Still in training. Not a Ghost ready for missions yet."

Roxana cooed immediately, "Ah, don't be like that, Il For~tay... things are different, because of your Rare Skill. I'm sure you'll be powerful in a matter of years."

Avestruz shrugged, "'sides, what missions? What I figure, the only thing they'll put you to is just makin' your Rare Skill stronger till it can even fight those Bureau dogs."

A new voice cuts in, another I recognize, "It doesn't matter if you're only Difunto. You have a Rare Skill, and all of Espada at your beck and call, hot shot. They'll probably send you out with an army if you wanted to go out and buy cookies for a mission."

"Telos Sabueso. Pirámide Delacabeza."

I do not mind Telos. It is his nature to be disparaging of anything that boasts without proving itself, even if unintentionally, like myself. I find it agreeable in ways. It reminds me that the universe was not made to bow before me. Though to be correct, I note that no one really knows Telos' sex anyways. He always wears that suit, and the voice that comes through is so warped and mechanical, that all we can identify as male is perhaps that constant need to insult everything to prove it is weaker than he, until truly indicated otherwise.

Pirámide on the other hand, never talks, only listens. Roxana is quick to defend me.

"Telos! You should stop saying that to Il Forte! It's not like he wants to be treated specially!"

Telos folded his arms, a mechanically altered snort coming through the featureless suit, "Like I should listen to the words of a woman who bends herself backwards for the boy. We'll see how what he turns out to be in a few years."

I cut in, as we continue on, "Telos, my baptism is taking place shortly. Listen to my words, and watch my actions. I will hold you to prove what I am."

"Tch. Silver tongued, aren't you? A mark of an officer, and of a liar. I hope you're not too in love with the sound of your own voice!"

"Again, I have nothing done or said that can prove anything to you yet. I have, until now, only been tutored and trained. When I become an Espada, everything will be different. Let us see what I become, but I believe that my special treatment will be returned to Espada many times over."

Telos harrumphed, our games finished for now, and follows behind. He does not believe in me as strongly as Roxana does, or even as much as Avestruz does, but he is paying enough attention to me, that he will observe me, even in the heat of battle.

We march up, until the streets become archaic feeling and cobbled. At last, a great spired structure is before me. I turn back to my companions.

"You cannot enter the same way I do. If you wish to continue observing me during the conveyance of the baptism, please watch in the designated areas."

"Aw, I can't come with you, Il For~tay~?" Roxana play-begs. It seemed almost genuine.

"Unfortunately at this time, I do not have enough sway to move heaven and earth for you. So you must watch with the others, as much as I would have liked for you to be with me."

"Oooh yeah, it would have been nice if I came along, too. Me playing some marching piece in front of you all, that would be awesome." Avestruz dreamed along. Telos snapped at them, back to reality. I had places to be, and so did they.

* * *

There was more Espada attending than I had expected. I thought myself less popular, or at least more distrusted, the idea that a small boy like myself, treated like a prince among them, in a civilization that dreamed of a universe where that word that not exist. The idea that this whelp would be of any use, Rare Skill or not. But there were more than I expected.

Myself, walking down the long white carpet inside the chapel-like hall. Did I truly carry the dreams of all these people?

Myself, hovering beside me, a shade half here, my will become shape.

Twenty-Two others of myself, somewhere out there, watching what I am becoming, for them.

That does not sound right. I have to reword, refine what I am thinking.

All the while, I reach some of the oldest Espada. Some aged, some young, some unrecognizable. I kneel.

"This is not about prearranged speeches. This is about true purpose. Be your true mind. Why are you here? What has brought you before us?"

"I am here because I would rather be nowhere else. I have nothing but an ability, that you realized would benefit both of us. You trust me and aid me, and I will do the same, for the two of us to realize our goals."

"And what is your goal?"

"To find myself. At the end of the path may possibly lie your Outer Heaven, or it may lie something else."

"Then your goal is not the same as ours."

"It is similar enough, that I believe when the end of my journey has come, it will have always aided the Espada as much as myself."

They in white, all around me, all conversing, whether I would be of use. I can feel Roxana's gaze upon my back somewhere, worried, in awe, many things.

Myself, Myself, Twenty-Two of Myself. Above all that, is what I always feel. One of them always brightly shines in my mind, saying that it should be met first. And I know after that, another will shine, and so on.

I must meet them all, whatever these Twenty-Two are. It is my goal, my purpose. Why else was I born? To be able to think about them? Feel them? Plan on them? It is my fate.

No. It cannot be fate. Fate calls itself unbreakable.

'There is no coincidence, only _Hitsuzen_.'

Hitsuzen may be the word. A sense of inevitability. Not "I will", but "I must". Whether I live or die, rise or fall, love or hate, my path will move forward with these vestiges of existence far in the universe, saying that we must meet.

The Fool's Journey...

"Rise."

Everyone watches me look up to those wise men and women, who were the first of us.

"We have agreed. Il Forte, are you ready to cast off the past?"

"I never had one."

"Your future is bloodshed and war, against perhaps all of the universe."

"Fires of truth glow brighter when all is dark."

"Then, your path of the present is only this: Go forth, bring us victory."

"I understand, for it is the will of Espada."

"Turn, and face your peers."

And I looked into the masses of black and white, while I feel one draw something cold over my head, which covers and rests against my mouth.

Behind me, a great voice speaks, "Kin, we accept and receive a new one into our fold! He is our ally! He is our brother! He is Il Forte! He is Espada!"

A tumultuous cheer. I am truly of these people now.

* * *

It was a long day. Avestruz convinced Telos to bring our small party down to his part of Circo, far opposite to Castillo, for a semi-hurried, semi-functioning celebration, before we broke up. Roxana and I returned back to our small home in Ciudad, where everything began. Roxana helps me undress, while I sit on the bed.

"Il For~tay... congratulations."

"Thank you, Roxana."

"But I have one new thing to do now before I put you to bed."

"Yes?"

"May I... take off your mask?"

My mask. In a matter of hours it already had become second nature to me. Like the pieces of me scattered about the universe. Perhaps it was inevitable that I would become Espada as well, just another step to be eventually reached in the mysterious road of my life.

"You may, Roxana."

Gentle hands. She always was gentle, but firm with me. Slowly sliding the black decorative jaws off my mouth.

"I'm not sure whether I like you better with this on or off, Il For~tay." She smiled.

"That is for you to decide. I must sleep now."

"And you will."

She settles sheets over me.

"Good night, Il Forte~."

"Good night, Roxana Bromista."

Tonight, I bathed myself in the cooling dark of night as Espada. A mere officiation. I will hear of missions, and of duties. But they are also officiations of something I will always be led to do.

The Fool's Journey. Nyx. Persona. Be Your True Mind.

Myself, Myself, Twenty-Two of Myself.

* * *

_A continuación se_...

* * *

J-Easy's Afterword:

Well, there you have it. The first interlude, or Vision, as I prefer to call 'em in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. This episode was brought to you all by Person, and without him, it would not be possible. So give him the props, yo!

As for myself, I apologize if you all felt that was a WTF?! Where's MAH Actual Episode 22?! moment, but I assure you that's on the way too. I'll try to do my best to have it out by this coming New Year's. Now, as to why seemingly all of a sudden I am introducing a BBEG and Co., well, this was on my mysterious schedule and it ties into that "Drill" per say, plus a little Hitsuzen. Yes, this is pretty much a big Red Flag saying there is going to be a fight in the future, and shoot, the Espada are great villains! And I promise y'all are gonna get to see a new side to 'em since they are now officially an entire society / culture. I just hope I am up to snuff to portray 'em when they finally come out to kick tail and take names.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	23. Entry 1 22: BtS

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.22:

Back to School --- Delightfully?

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

_Vhmmm_...!

I woke to the ambient hum of machines in a cold sweat; a newborn gasping desperately for the harsh cycling air, his first breath of life. My face burned flush, and my eyes wide in a frenzy, pupils dilating, darted this way and that way, as if acting on instinct to assess the situation, fight-or-flight. I recognized a cabin, smelled the metal, the awkwardly suffocating restraints, and all so hot; an onslaught of memories; flashes of light and bites of sound bombarding my thoughts into a train wreck crash...

_Skreee_~**FHWOOM**.

Arching pain twisted my expression into a grimace, in my back, pain in my head, choking throat, convulsing arms, pins and needles threatening to explode out of my chest; there, a clear vivid image emerged from the maelstrom of the storming season. It was...

"Drill".

...a strange gold thing, worn and cracked in many a place that perhaps implied its venerable age. What was it? The thud of a heartbeat echoed, and the emptiness that surrounded "Drill" gave way to a miasma of vehement red (blood?), laced in black. Why does it have a "_bow_" just like... With each reverb of my heart, a green light pulsed aglow in tune, seeping out through the cracks in "Drill". Indeed, each turn of its spiral bit, some lengths missing, did that not resemble the "_blade_" of...

Yes, a "Key", but for what?

**Remember**.

If only I could remember-!

A sharp blast of white noise, though, terminated subconscious thoughts, wiping the image away into a blissful oblivion of static and light. I was back, the "attack" subsiding, just as suddenly as it all began. For a moment, there was but crystal silence before the drone of the metal "womb" reasserted itself.

An out of body experience...? _Keh_, if this sort of thing was going to become the norm in my life, then I ought to start carrying some ASA for these afterword "hangover" headaches! Mysteries, I feel like skull is about to implode and spew brain, bone, and blood straight out of ears and nose; even massaging my temples with the cold exterior of my leather clad hands was not helping to alleviate the symptoms.

Come to think of it, just where was I? What day was it? And...

_Thud_.

Atlas-issue traditional Yuktobanian ushanka in Navy blue, the faint scent of cinnamon shampoo(!), and blonde hair: it was clear evidence as any that it was Ryuune Zoldark taking liberty on my shoulder again(?!). I will not go out on a limb to say that her presence alone made my physical suffering go away, but it would be a lie to say it did not make the splitting headache a little more bearable. Perhaps, it is as they say, "Misery loves company"?

More importantly, if she was here, then ergo this cabin must belong to whatever craft we have been booked for our return flight. ...strange. I do not feel as if any significant time has passed since --- since I spoke to Countess Lowran at...

**I cannot remember**.

A cold shiver tore into my spine. _Confusion_. **Anger**. _**Agony**_. I had lost a fragment of my "time". And then, there was only --- "_Emptiness_". How could this be? I-I...I could not remember anything in the time between then and now! What did we speak of? What happened? What is happening to me?!

**Wait**. Calm down. Yes, calm down! This was not the first-

Thoughts of sanity turned to insanity once more in a flash when a durasteel vice grip bit into my throat, which protested with a garbled choke. Eyes bulging and muscles straining, I discovered immediately the owner of the said grip, leading from white clad hand, almost claw-like, that disappeared up into an imposed white caped figure. The attacker's hooded face was veiled behind a black mask, and a skeletal jaw with exaggerated imitation bone white teeth, obscuring his or her identity completely.

Even under such scrutiny, I did not forget to save my own existence, at least so was my intent, motivated by the simple desire to live. Alas, it was not to be so easy for in spite of using a wholly amateurish technique, only possibly devastating in Wood-Holly summer blockbuster movies, I could not defeat the figure's grip at all. Tug, pull, and strain, as I might at the weakest finger, the thumb, it did not budge scarcely a millimeter!

_Impossible_. Th-This! _How is it even Zoldark who lays beside me does not notice my plight_? This bastard! _Is this just a delusion or_... He's going to kill-! _Ahhh_,_ not good_..._going weak_..._and blacking_...

It was at such a critical juncture, too, that a revelation was given to me so. A fantastic slew of memories, passing by with sounds, words, light, and feelings; there, a name emerged from the stream of consciousness, foreign and mysterious, before it threw me back into harsh reality. Was _this _what I had...

"I-Il... F-For-te?" I managed to gasp, barely.

Nevertheless, it was enough. The figure before me hesitated but a moment and gave a mighty "pop!"(?!), disappearing into a cloud of icy vapor. If I were not busy gobbling up air, I might have had the heart to laugh at the near comical demise of such a terrible presence. Once more, the jaws death had failed to claim me, but was this sort of thing to become a norm in my daily life?

But, just what was all of that exactly? This was not the first time I had experienced such a vivid phenomena. Could it be? Delusions? Hallucinations? Clairvoyance? _Tsk_, damnation! My right hand is shaking. **Stop**. Why won't it listen to me? **Be calm**! There is no need to be afraid. _Why was it so cold_?! I...I must speak of this to no one. They... They would not believe of such madness, least of all coming from me because I am-!

Unexpected, the warming sensation cutting through the maddening haze of hysteria, a black glove clad hand, much like my own, reached out to take the "dead" limb into hers, fingers intertwining. I never imagined another's presence could be so reassuring, and she said this, while somewhere in the realm between slumber and the conscious:

"...hey...wait for me...promise? I'll...catch up...to you...soon. I...hate...being...alone...too, _Ro_'_ika_."

"_Ro_'_ika_"? Heh...it seemed my duty has grown heavier (another growing trend to be expected?), but the question of what I must do or what I should do never ought to cross the mind of a Le Fay in the first place. To accept responsibility for our actions, and to continue living with all our might, for better or worse, that is the path of _The Judgment_ (XX). It is just that... I worry that I have involved her with a --- troubling fellow.

Again, that old question: can I protect her? No, I must, for I deny the existence of any other recourse.

* * *

We arrived at the airfield on base in the wee hours of the morning, with time to spare before the dawn of Monday, Aprilis the 7th, T.C. 4654; the difference in time zone gave us the extra hours see, but I imagine we will be suffering from jet lag soon enough. It may have been Spring but out here on the Dresdene plateau, so near the mountains, the temperatures had changed little since we left. In fact, we were given a less than appreciated grand old welcome by the Mysteries: snow fall and wind chill of negative-five with the ten kilometers per hour wind.

Our runaway was lit reasonably well, but between the elements and the "bright night" effect, visibility was quite shoddy. I am certain we could have appropriated ourselves a ride on one of the baggage trains towards the ground control terminal, at least as the alternative of braving our way on foot was less than favorable. In particular, Zoldark would have it the worse as she had an extra wheeled-suitcase to drag around with her, added to the ever irritating seabags on our backs. There was also the danger of slush and ice beneath the accumulating layers of snow that ground crews were trying to clear out around the clock, not just here, but likely on "campus" as well in anticipation for the day's operations.

Of course, the Mysteries had their own dark sense of "mercy". As we sat off to the side from the chartered freight repulsorlift craft, taking note to be well away from the engine exhausts, the blare of a horn came to our attention. Big, bright headlights; I did not recall, making a courtesy call for a vehicle to come pick us up, which I was about to... Just who would be anticipating our(?) --- my(?) --- arrival?

It was an Arrow-23, military-variant _sans_ turret on top. The beautiful thing about repulsorlift craft was that they could cross just about any terrain; the problem was if you transfer into a different medium _that_ was where we run into technical problems. The side hatch hissed open well before the land speeder set down, pulling up beside us, and out leapt a figure, his boisterous laughter even audible over the hum of the engines.

"_Ura ura ura~_, what doth this Fool see?" an all too familiar voice called out, peaked with jovial melodrama, as he skipped, near dancing, through the snow towards us. How he could be so sure of his footing was a mystery of its own, but with all the snow around, methinks the prince of the north in fact did not mind making a pratfall for the sake of doing so. Why else would he be so reckless?

"Why am I not surprised?" at least so said the pouting expression on Ryuune Zoldark, as she shrugged off her seabag onto the mounting snow.

"Two long lost mer~ry friends freezing cold in the slush. A predicament? A trial? Is their resolve being tested by Heaven and Earth? But, the Fool to _Deus ex Machina_ sayeth, '_NAY_! _BANISH THEE, I DO_. _BEGONE, O FATES_!' Heroic Chrono, COME TO MY ARMS~!"

To paraphrase a quote I would learn much later, '**I** _WA SHOCKU_!' Thunderstruck dumb, I could only stare slack jawed at the imminent approach of the characteristically(?!) amorous Nagi Dai Artai. Of course, I knew the little prince from the north was rather eccentric, but to act on such an impulse, so suddenly... I am afraid to say my heart was unprepared, genuinely, for such an "assault".

Someone else, though, clearly did not appreciate the little devil being so solicitous in the wee hours of the morning; her exacerbated further by the frigid weather. Boldly, she stepped into the line of fire and let loose an intervening black hand...

_Splat_.

I blinked.

"Blugh! ...kah... Yuck!"

"Oh, whad'dya know?" Ryuune drawled, wiping her gloved hands "clean", before bending down for another fistful of snow. "I found some yellow snow over there. Could be toxic, huh?"

Now, if she was expecting Nagi to be angered, I am afraid my hotheaded companion was sorely mistaken. The fair albino boy smiled, like the Cheshire cat to the canary, "That was..._naughty_~!"

His tone, a mix of innuendo and outright accusation, instantly dredged up a feeling of nausea on my part. Zoldark, too, was affected, blushing brightly for she must have felt positively scandalized. I do not understand how he does it, but like a snake charmer, The Fool's voice was enough to turn around a disadvantage into an advantage.

"Come now, my lady - O Fair Lady~, if you sought my attentive embrace, then this lowly puck would be happy to oblige, with all his being. Any~time. Just. For. Y-O-U, _fu fu fu_."

Even without the aid of her charmed glasses, I believe I saw the Corellian hellcat's complexion sift through all colors of the rainbow, dropping her newly formed snowball in the process from nerveless hands. The situation clearly needed to be deescalated to a peaceful conclusion, before Ryuune's hyperactive prefrontal cortex gave her the go ahead to initiate "Operation Kick the Devil". And once again, someone else had their own plans in mine: if it began with a snowball, it would end with a snowball.

_Splat_.

"Guh...!"

"Ah, _hsss_, what do you know? I discovered, _hsss_, fresh urinated snow," a new digitally scrambled voice entered the fray. "Imagine the odds of that, _hsss_?"

It sounded neither man or woman, neutral, belonging to a figure clad much like ourselves, and the height seemed to be a match for our relative ages too. But, what in Mid-Childa could compel them to wear: a full face respirator --- wait, actually that is a military-issue gas mask, complete with a respirator, glowing red photoreceptors, and a harsh comlink mouthpiece. The kit overall gave the impression that the wearer was emphatically glowering at you; good for intimidation, but in a socially "neutral" (so I hoped) situation as ours, it seemed awfully out of place.

"Your Lordship, _hsss_, shall I attend to the baggage?"

My upbringing thankfully restrained my urge to splutter, having received another shock in a matter of minutes. Even Ryuune took pause at the abrupt development; her angered reprisal put on temporary hold.

"Oh, _Little One_, you still need more lessons, but know that I do appreciate your sentiment," Nagi sang drolly, reaching out to pat the taller masked fellow on the head. It was a bizarre gesture to bestow on another, whom was his age or possibly older, to say the least, not to mention the moniker he gave away did not seem to fit the owner at all. If anything, by physical standards, the nickname was a gross misnomer.

"Hark, Heroic Chrono, please, lay your things aside and leave them to she!"

What... That menacing fellow is a "She"?

"You and good lady, Ryuune Zoldark, must join me at once in the cabin, before the hour takes a turn for the worse. It may have been only a week but much has happened so my ears have told me, and 'tis to your great benefit that you be brought abreast of the news. And please, do not fear, I can vouch for Little One's superb diligence, though others may use the _possibly _distasteful euphemism of stubbornness."

All of that, the little prince said, with a _glitter _in his pale orchid-hue eyes. Others might have mistaken it for a trick of light, but I had lived with him close to five months, and had the rare opportunity to observe him on a near daily basis. Of course, it was far from an intensive study, but that glitter, even though he spoke as usual in his give-and-take way, meant something more: pride? confidence? affection? or all the above?

So focused was I trying to puzzle out his intent that before I knew it, the burden on my own shoulders had been slipped off; myself and Ryuune, whom attempted to protest, were ushered into the waiting landspeeder transport by Nagi. Glancing back to find some way to justify any objections I wished to muster myself, my expression transformed into gaping shock for there was Little One. She had already both seabags on her shoulders, carrying the brand new suitcase one-handed, and forging through the piling snow with deft ease.

In my solemn opinion, there was nothing little about a girl with that much strength! So why in the Mysteries had she been dubbed "Little One"? ...that was an answer I would learn of at a much later date.

* * *

Our pilot droid was as competent as mathematically possible; thus, it was no surprise the ride in the heated cabin of the Arrow-23 was agreeable to all. We did not have the weather to contend with anymore, nor its hazardous challenges. Our first destination was the Bronzo Quarter, as per the plan of the day suggested by Nagi. He seemed to have nominated himself our host, to which he met no protest to speak of, for neither myself or Ryuune wanted to bother in particular. Though today was the school opening ceremony, which required mandatory attendance unless otherwise excused, it was also a holiday just for us: a brief respite to get any last orders of business up to date, but more importantly, to celebrate.

Why you ask? Well, I am told it is a long standing tradition for those of us in uniform to welcome new blood and to honor our brethren, whom have risen to new rank (read: Promotions) in festivity. Yes, it boiled down essentially into a party for the young pups and the old wolves.

Thus, the plan was: drop off our luggage, eat, kill time, attend the ceremony, and when it was all over, spend the rest of the evening acting our own age at the various events organized by the various clubs and the Student Council. Alas, we were not Third Years yet, and did not have the privilege of being allowed liberty off base, not that there was much of anywhere to go around these parts. ...well, actually, there is one such place, but that was a subject best left to another time...

In any case, there was still time before we arrived at our first stop, so the inevitable topic reared its ugly head in the tense, awkward ambience of the warm cabin.

"Well, what gives? You going to introduce her to us, _Artai_?" naturally Ryuune tackled the metaphoric beast head on, shoving her hand straight down into its gullet. All it would take was the slightest impetus, and she would enjoy tearing out its entrails...with extreme prejudice.

At least, that was the air she was giving off... My companion clearly was still raw-

"Oh dear me, O Fair Lady, cannot we call this even, like water under the bridge?" Nagi smiled, spreading his hands outward in a magnanimous gesture of peace.

"Me? Hacked off? _Phwoar_, I'm made of tougher stuff than that."

Yes, she was definitely raw about the snowball!

"Ah ha ha, then I shall satisfy your good-natured curiosity to the fullest. Little One, may I?"

Our menacing companion, who sat beside the little prince opposite of us, obliged with no more than a nod. Perhaps, she was not the kind of person for words? The hiss of an airtight seal breaking punctuated our anxious anticipation, as Nagi removed the gas mask with an easy familiarity that perhaps hinted at their intimacy, leaving the mask to dangle down, by its retractable harness, onto its owner's bosom.

"Lords, Ladies, and Gentlebeings all around," the little devil prince began with all gusto, "allow me to present, Nina Wáng!"

Her pretty complexion, which was bound to be beautiful in the coming cycles, revealed at last put an end to any doubt's of her gender. Possessing she was of ultramarine blue hair, and the fiercest set of eyes, near glowing embers of dark amber, I had the occasion to behold to date.

"An unusual young woman of many talents, many deeds, and indeed, one who means many things to this jovial puck!"

Yes, her gaze was even fiercer than the one Ryuune Zoldark wore months ago, when we first met, but _this _girl, her "gaze" seemed wholly incapable of softening at all. With or without the gas mask, she was still just as menacing! ...then again, I hope I was only exaggerating.

"But if thou must knoweth a facet of her relation to I, then The Fool shall bequeath a riddle all the same to thee: she is my Maid of Honor."

The weight of the sudden announcement felt like a straight knee strike to my guts. Even Ryuune, who likely did not know much of what specific denotations such a title entailed, was brought aghast by the full reality of the girl across from her waiting hand and foot at Nagi Dai Artai's bidding. I suspected as much there was something to them when Nina addressed the former as "Your Lordship", but to be called his Maid of Honor meant she was far from just a mere servant!

"This one is still but a woefully inexperienced apprentice, Honorable Chrono Harlaown," she spoke then for the first time, offering a humble bow as well. I immediately took notice several things, so did my Corellian companion to a lesser extent, as we both shared a blush at the gesture.

Though she was very young, any sign of what ought to constitute a child seemed to have been replaced with an apparently perfect _petite _lady. From her strict posture to the measured inflection of her refined voice, everything spoke volumes of the high standards of etiquette she had been brought up with: control, grace, and the promise of sweet retribution for injury, insult, or both. Oh yes, I wish I was joking about the last part, but the faint hint of steel and the fact she went as far as to address herself in the third person... Her title as Nagi's Maid of Honor; the girl obviously took her duties seriously, particularly the facet concerning "Honor".

"She asks only of your benevolent patience in her continuing education."

Here I thought Countess, _erm_(?), Captain Leti Lowran was the worst stickler for customs and courtesies. Oh, of all the dumb luck to meet someone even more...

"Apologies, friends," Nagi laughed, "My dear Nina is still a diamond in the rough, and the old ways of _The North _are not so easily malleable. Try as I might, I am afraid her diligence is also a double-edged sword, but I promise she means well with her formalities."

I have the dreadful feeling he was about to throw something unreasonable at us. What with the way The Fool was leaning forward out of his seat, rubbing his gloved hands together, as he brought his gleaming grin to bear like a loaded flak cannon.

"So, would you two please do me the favor of befriending my dear Nina?"

Thus, was the "trap" sprung, quite the ugly mantrap too. Knowing Nagi Dai Artai, he probably had a scheme within a scheme already laid out, and we had just fallen right into his web --- no, we were doomed the moment we accepted his offer.

"Guess it can't be helped; I'll bite, Artai," Ryuune answered in a matter of act.

It was so straightforward and sudden that I was at a loss for words; though methinks it ought to be expected of the Corellian hellcat no less. While I was worrying about the potential risks and benefits of such a liaison, she could care less, and had charged right into the fray ahead of me. I wonder, did she even give it any thought at all?

"But on one condition... Chrono already knows, but let me tell ya just so we're all on the same page: I **hate** weaklings. When I see weaklings, I just want to crush the _hut_'_uune_ into dust, see? They don't belong anywhere: not beside me, and burnin' blazes they better not be behind me. 'Course, a sharp as a razor gullipud like you can figure what kind of folks I like the best too. _Mandokarla_, at least in your own way, Artai, not that I like it, which is why I'll be Kesseled if I see you in _dar_'_yaim _--- even that place isn't big enough to hold us all."

Ugh! Of course, she did not; that hot-blooded idiot...but in a way, was this admission a sign of her new maturity? The old Ryuune Zoldark, methinks, would never have spoken so to the devilish puck, whom she despised. _Hn_.

"_Aliit ori_'_shya_ _tal_'_din_, _vod_," was Nagi's reply. No smiles. No...

The phrase was a Mandalorian proverb that translated into "Family is more than bloodline"...was he sincere truly? _Ah_, I can only pray everything will turn out all right.

* * *

'Twas in a dining hall, us four and the sun rising on the horizon, over a hearty breakfast and tea that Nagi Dai Artai could stand it no longer and began to break the gossip to us. Prior we had mostly been swapping stories about our week long vacations, with the prince and his attendant not particularly contributing much, and expertly my own inquiries. Nina Wáng, though, provided an answer unexpectedly when asked of her whereabouts offhand by Ryuune, who herself blinked briefly in stupefaction.

The "serious" girl had hardly uttered a word for the entirety of our exchange, indeed drinking in our own slightly censored tale with quiet observation in contrast to her master's near ravenous attention. Nina had spent the last trimester at a different ground school where she studied and waited patiently to be transferred here to Atlas - the Giant's Pit. It was startling to hear her speak, but methinks, we would come to terms with that peculiar idiosyncrasy in time.

In any case, Nagi's gossip was mostly what it was --- gossip: names, news, happenings, plots, and essentially, things I never for much cared. Plays for power, as you know do not interest me, and politics was a necessary evil that I only reluctantly indulged in. Still, there was a piece of word that piqued my attention, as well as Ryuune, who paused from her slaughter of Amerian hash and rice.

With the inherent instability of the post-war reconstruction, our so-called fearless leaders in congress had pushed through _the_ bill at last that would legitimize our mutual name, the Union of Solar Energy and Free Nations (abbreviated the Union) - that is, Mid-Childa and all her colonies. For some time now, our representatives in government had been dodging the issue of abstaining from the use of non-renewable consumables and pushing for a true clean, renewable initiative to solve one of our oldest vices: energy. Being a high technology-dependant civilization has its price, especially when we as a people strongly refuse to compromise over the environment. Emigrating into space and settling on terraformed or viably habitable worlds that belonged to no country has not made the precipitating crisis any easier.

If anything, it only made things worse. There have been many suggestions as to how we ought to solve our virtually insatiable thirst. The most outrageous and abominable of such plans being the proposal that we assemble a "Planet Cracker" fleet that would scour the galaxy for geologically dead worlds and harvest them wholesale. Suffice to say that idea did not survive very long between its detractors and public scrutiny that was frankly aghast with horror that someone would suggest building an entire fleet's worth of WMDs. Surely, it would not take much to weaponize such benign behemoths into unspeakable (and appropriately named) "World Devastators", yes?

What was next (so raved furious conspiracy theorists and whistle blowers)? A moon-sized space fortress that destroys with a planet killing superlaser? A mobile space superiority battlestation that could strike at targets discriminately anywhere in the galaxy using its "Galaxy Gun" and disappear without a trace? Or worse, a superweapon among superweapons no larger than a starfighter, near indestructible, and capable of destroying an entire star system by itself? It would no doubt be deserving of the title of "The Sun Crusher".

But I digress. Ever since the age of the First Settlement began, we have been importing the basics of life, spending simply astronomical sums to acquire that we desire. I believe, we spend more on energy, be it food, fuels, raw materials, than we do on our national defense budget. Our involvement and the outcome of the Clone Wars, three long cycles of bloodshed, fighting the greatest conflict in galactic history to date, was far from a position of envy. We contributed as expected of member worlds of the Galactic Republic, with men and arms, hoping to end the strife as swiftly as possible, for we could ill afford a long war.

Indeed, we were in grave danger of spending beyond our means to live. It has been a long time since we have seen a national budget surplus at all, which brings us all full circle to the present. Congress has authorized the Orbital EV Project, a series of megastructures that combine the functions of a space elevator and a gigantic solar power satellite docked to two geostationary rings. The rings are supported at altitudes of ten and forty thousand kilometers above our equator by three fifty-thousand kilometer high compressive elevator towers that terminate in ballast satellites.

The upper ring will be lined with a photovoltaic array that will harness the near inexhaustible energy of our sun, which the tower then carry back to the surface and distributed to the waiting masses. Of course, a multi-layered deflector shield system will be installed to protect this vital construct from various "deteriorative agents", not to mention Mid-Childa's very own planetary defense force (abbreviated PDF). They are a collective of free military forces, unassociated with the Time-Space Administration Bureau, from all home nations invested in the elevator's function, who would proactively engage **any **threats that present themselves.

(Whatever the circumstances may be, do not call the PDF - "The National Guard", for they are every bit the same proud professionals as Bureau personnel are, or at least ought to be. Though their jurisdiction only extends as far as our home star system reaches, it does not hurt that they are armed to the teeth, and amongst their ranks are blooded veterans from the Clone Wars, too. Hence, they are quite **agitated** when it is perceived that we are in some way undermining their authority.)

Representatives from the colonies were understandably skeptical of such an ambitious plan. Why should their constituents allow the federal government to spend their hard earned tax credits in such a ludicrous way? When would they receive the benefits? Could this Orbital Elevator System ever pay for itself?

To them, the bill's advocates replied with a grand presentation of the near infinitesimal potential, commercial, social, and environmental, their grandchild possessed. True space ports and docks that could alleviate congestion at ground-based centers and installations. A new interest in civilian space tourism. Greatly reduced output of emissions and pollutants. Freed up public funds that can now be pumped back into education. Still, skeptics also raised the more insidious and obvious militaristic aspect of the orbital elevator too.

Inevitably, funding was going to be procured one way or another to turn the Orbital EV from a relatively "soft" military target into a hardened geosynchronous battlestation, a superweapon ready to repel all comers from without **and **within. Omni-directional satellite-based arms. Omnipresent, anywhere, anytime surveillance covering a three-hundred-sixty degrees field of vision. Indeed, the Orbital Elevator System in its mature form would be the equivalent of an omnipotent **God**: _He_, the Ouroborous, _The World_, the karmic cycle, an inescapable Moebius Ring "_that giveth Life as surely as He taketh away_!".

It was a lot to take in at once, particularly coming from Nagi Dai Artai, who broken out into a sweat, stroked by the fires of his dramatic performance. The fact, Nina Wáng had produced a handkerchief to wipe away the glistening sheen, as he held his pose, with a completely straight face did not make it an easier to bear either.

Ryuune gave a derisive snort, earning a pair of looks in our cozy booth. Namely, it was myself and the puck.

"I don't see what you all are gettin' so worked up about. It's none of our business, yeah?"

Well, she did have a point there, but even I would feel uncomfortable knowing in maybe ten to twenty cycles time there would be a man-made "God" hovering in the sky above. Whoever controlled...

"And if something does happen, then that's exactly _**what **_we signed up for, right?"

Such honest, carefree testimony earned a spirited laugh out of Nagi so great that he had to hold on to Nina lest he slip underneath the table or worse. The serious girl maintained her lack of expression admirably, but I think no one with an ounce of feeling for the little devil would hold it against her for blushing. I, too, felt compelled to join in.

What better way to cure dread than with laughter, no?

* * *

I will not bore you with the details of the annual school opening ceremony. In fact, it was quite the drag, so the expression goes, because our headmaster, the illustrious eminent Archmagus Elminster Aumar, had called in sick at the last moment. Try as I might, I believe I did doze off after weathering the worst right before the sorting ceremony began, despite all efforts to stay awake. It was not until the commencement of the ceremony for promotions that Nagi woke me up, abruptly. Why he had allowed me to nap I knew not, and frankly, it would have been quite embarrassing if I had been called out in the audience hall before my peers, a genuine dangers considering my close proximity to the stage.

How he managed to mask my presence was another mystery to add under his sly character, but imagine my surprise when I was called up on stage to promote him! There was a handful of promotions to Platinum, primarily senior cadets in their fourth, fifth, or sixth years, who had gone through an airborne school first before coming here, which was to be expected, methinks. Nagi Dai Artai, though, put them all to grand shame with his meritorious promotion, just five months into his career as a full cadet, and suffice to say, there was a multitude worth of envious eyes and disbelieving blinks directed at us.

But, oh, that was not the end of the spectacle; Nagi and I were asked to remain on stage for the next round of promotions. Only two names were called out, both meritoriously promoted to Aurum in an equally short time of "service": one Corellian Hellcat and one Maid of Honor. I was so at a loss for words at the wholly unexpected coincidence that a flushing Ryuune had to remind me to pin her, exchanging her bronze "stripes" for the golden laurels of her new grade and all it entailed.

Everything between then and finding myself seated in a chair, along with the rest of our "merry gang", outside the Administrator's office in the Residence Life department building, I am almost bashful to say I do not recall. See, I was suddenly quite preoccupied and glad that today was an easy day, for my mind had been absently occupied with the grave matter of how I should go about celebrating Ryuune's promotion. Should I steal myself away to bake something? Soufflé? Red Velvet Cake?

"And that concludes my brief. Do you ladies and gentlemen have any questions?"

Huh? Oh, what! When did we enter the office, and the brief was already ov-

Naturally, perhaps, our Corellian companion was the first to voice her concerns, _loudly_, burying my train of thought in the dust. "WHAAAATTTTTTT!? I have to bunk with HIM!?"

Erm, excuse me? Could someone please fill me in...

"O Fair Dame, _buh-hu­-hu-hu,_ fear not!" Nagi choked, eyes watering with a roiling grin, as he leaned on Nina for support. Clearly, the albino boy was giving it his all not to laugh, but... "Your ever trusty puck, _guh_-_he_-_he_-_he_, and my dear Nina will b-be right next, _urk_, door should you ever require --- s-sanc-tuary from the sultry, hot at-mos-"

...the breakers of discipline soon broke, and a boisterous, almost in agony, laughter erupted in the office.

"_Gyah_~! Shut up, shut up, shut up! _Di_'_kut_! _Mir_'_osik_!"

The hubbub quickly grew in volume, as Nagi slyly used the ever serious Maid of Honor as a human shield, frustrating Ryuune's attempts to bring her biting venom to full bore. It was awkward to scream caustic verbiage at someone, who was patronizing you with laughter, when there was a bystander in the way, who gave the impression of an impenetrable, soundproof wall. The civilian administrator across from us, a mature human (near-human?) woman seated behind her broad bureau with a vapid smile on her face, though, thankfully was not fazed in the slightest by our "antics".

She must have experienced already many variations of the same performance, so I-!

"Please, settle down, _cadets_," all of a sudden the infernal woman blasted us with a megaphone! Where did that come from? _Ugh_, my ears... "Good, now according to the dossier I was provided from Student Affairs, I am of the understanding you, Miss Zoldark, already are on good terms with Mister Harlaown. Therefore, I stand by my decision. _My _**final **_**decision**_."

And that was _that_ as they say. No appeals. No protests of conscience. Nothing

"As long as you two don't lose your heads over exuberant youthful foolishness, I have supreme confidence this partnership will be to the betterment of both yourselves in the coming cycles. Who knows? Perhaps, Miss Zoldark, you will be up for another meritorious, with such exceptional companions beside you."

Thus, the day marked my first experience of learning how to live on my own, under one roof, with a girl, and the Goddess of Magic and Mysteries had to pick the most fire-spirited of them all for me. ...'twas no doubt in my mind that the next few cycles would be unforgettable, for better or worse. And here I thought living with Nagi Dai Artai was a challenge...

"Well, ma'am, I hope the arrangements for her belongings are under way as we speak?"

_This_ was going to be the real crucible!

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.22 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. First off, I'd like to apologize for my tardiness, real life interrupted and all, but hey, at least I am here. A happy belated New Year to all.

Now, if the first scene had you all going WTF?!, don't sweat it. The explanation for the memory gap will come in its own time. Everything else, I believe is straight to the point. In fact, we should be able to see quite a bit of the Orbital EV up and running by the time Chrono graduates... Oh, and yes, I know blatant homage, but I couldn't resist. I can hear the anticipatory melody of "Opening ~ Bombing Mission" from FF7 already. Please, look forward to it, yeah?

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	24. Entry 1 23: Seasonings

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.23:

Seasonings, Please

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

"Hail, hi, hello, salutations, good morning, and the season's greetings, my son," chirped a kind of _familiar _voice I had not heard in person for nigh a year. It was like my mother's, but much _younger_(?!), yet still wise beyond her years. I wonder if it was another of life's many "spices" that came with living as long as she did. "Tea for three and I baked scones for cream and jam. Do not worry; the kitchen is safe."

I blinked. An unexpected guest so pleasant, I assure you, does not drop out of thing air every day, especially not your own grandmother who had somehow managed to regress herself back into a child. Yes, there, sitting in an armchair of the living room, was Morgan Le Fay, a sorceress supreme, centenarian, and Head of House for the good past several centuries. No, I do not jest. She was my living example of how a lifetime of being exposed to Mystra's "Light" and partaking in sorcery can do to a mere mortal, at least the blessings that could come of it.

(The curses was a subject for another time.)

Normally, she appears to be a woman in her early forties, bearing a curious ageless beauty, with long luxurious platinum hair (dolled up bizarrely to be as to a butterfly's wings!?) and eyes of ebullient hazel. I am told Mother bears a strong resemblance to her in her youth, which at this opportune hour seemed to be much the case, for she looked no older than ten cycles old, dressed conventionally enough. The wonders and mysteries of _magick_ will never cease to amaze, but more importantly, just what was she doing here?

"Oh, and is that the girl I have heard so much about? Hnn-hmmm, are we not a touch hasty there, son? Tsk, tsk, children these days; they grow up so fast. Next, I know, I will see you carrying her as bride."

Such cheerful teasing would not be inflammatory to most people, but to the person riding on my back, it woke her right up with a yowl. Breath now recovered, evidently, scurried off me, putting a healthy arm's distance apart between us, before hollering red-faced:

"That troublesome, blaster magnet's j-just my buddy! There. Is. Nothing! Going on between us. Where do you all loony fraks keep getting these laserbrained ideas from, huh? And just who in the flaming _sithspit_ are you, ya pint-sized brat?"

"Ah, denial; the privilege of the young. You are just like the impression my child gave to me."

"I-I ain't hidin' nothing. ...wait a micron! **Oh**, I got you figured out now: you're one of Shira-_baka_'s do-lackeys, aren't ya?"

"'_Shira_-_baka_'?" Grandmother (well, let us refer to as Little Gran for now) murmured thoughtfully, as if she were chewing the name over and deciding whether it was awful or delicious. "...Hnnn. I ask your forgiveness, but being one of a venerable experience, I have long since privileged myself to the bliss of selective memory."

"EEHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh?!"

"In the vernacular of an inexperienced youth's perspective, _hu hu_, I black out the quirks of insufferable individuals."

"That's nothing to sound cute about!" Ryuune hollered back at the top of her lungs, almost tearing off her ushanka as she hurled in a fit onto the floor.

I believe such a flamboyant display was only because she was still in shock over recent developments: namely, her and my new circumstances.

"Then, by all means, enlighten me to this person you have dubbed a pet."

"Hey-hey, quit joking like that...I can feel my lifespan slippin' away." Truth be told, the Corellian hellcat did look ghoulishly pale at the insinuation of her "sanguine" guardian as a pet.

"Truce?"

"Yes."

"Excellent!" Little Gran beamed, with an unexpectedly cutesy smile. Was it an illusion or was she sparkling literally right before my eyes? Ah, so many stars...

Even Ryuune was grudgingly forced to squint, "Look, Shira-_baka_'s my legal caretaker deadbeat."

"Oh, your guardian?"

"Yeah, yeah, and to his circle, he's Doctor Shuu Shirakawa, some big shot at E.O.T.I., who obviously _is_ your boss, see?"

"Shuu Shira...Oh! You mean Young Christoph Adel? Hnn-hmm, the mystery unravels and its portent becomes clear to me. So, you are the young firebrand taken into his care that I have heard so much about on the weather vane."

"Geh... H-He, he talks about me?" Ryuune blanched uneasily at the notion, which must have been as vile to her as bad milk.

"Well, some of him and some of others; a token of merit to your unusually severe character, perhaps?"

"Wh-Who's severe, HUH?!"

Little Gran had a good chuckle, as I sweated out the severe heat of the righteous indignation radiating off in waves from my blonde-haired colleague. Perhaps, curbing her near-haywire aggressive / defensive nature would be a worthy goal for myself to work towards during these next few years. But as I contemplated such a venture, Grandmother surprised us with a queer omen, though we knew not yet what it would entail:

"Though, I wonder if a firehearted girl like you could fill the void in the empty heart of that poor child... He had a chance...once before, but..."

"Eh?"

An empty heart?

"Oh ho ho ho, please, sit!" Little Gran all of a sudden sparkled brighter than before, effectively changing the subject. Ugh, I think I have stars burned into my retinas... "As much as I would like to know you better (and worry not, sweet fire, you have my best wishes in courting my son), I do not have much time to spare, so if I may, shall we proceed with the formalities of my visit?"

"B-Buh..! Oi, j-just who are ya really?"

Fascinating: I just noticed a new quirk about my Corellian colleague. It probably always was there, but she had a habit of changing _how_ she spoke, ranging from a nigh cruel "gutter-speak" to a correct "officer-talk", based on context and her own emotions. As for myself, I spoke consistently in the same respectable manner, rarely detracting to use the wholly informal "trooper-drawl" I had learned at Dilos Island. I-

"Hey, _yous_! Say something," Ryuune hissed breaking focus of my contemplative aside.

The sharp look she was giving me promised a good thump to my unprotected "grape", if I downplayed the increasingly embarrassing predicament, so...I gave her the sitrep, plain and undiluted.

"Ryuune Zoldark, **that person **is my grandmother, and the present Matriarch of House Le Fay, Archduchess Morgan Le Fay."

Someone fell flat on her rear and someone else gave a good hearty laugh.

"_Tee_...! _T-Tee hee hee_! G-Goodness gracious, I w-wondered, _pfft_-_fufufu_, how much longer were you going to bemuse yourself by keeping Miss Zoldark in the dark."

"It was not intentional," I remarked, defensively, "but I did not have confidence that I could calm her down to see reason... 'tis a complicated thing, Mother."

At such a forward address did the Corellian hellcat recover her senses enough to speak, "Wha...! Why are you calling her _buir_?"

"_Buir_" in the language of the Mandalorians, it means either father or mother, depending on context. For Ryuune to be... Hm, perhaps, I am trying to see correlations where they do not exist?

"Custom: Morgan Le Fay is the only surviving Le Fay of her generation, the eldest of our House, having journeyed over half a millennia. Few have lived and served as long as she; thus, by honoring herself we pay our respects to our progenitors as well, at least that is the lesson I was taught by one of my relatives."

"O~ld fogeys," Little Gran drawled with a juvenile roll of her eyes. The gesture alone seated awe in myself for I never dreamed I would see her behave as herself from centuries ago. After all, common sense swings with the notion that ones' elders do not make a show of their younger, foolish selves, usually at least. "When you reach my ludicrously inflated _experience_, would you not prefer to be addressed '_Mother_' than '_Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great_! (was that enough great's?) _Grandmother_', aye? 'Tis so much more ador~able, _hnnn_?"

"Guh...ah, I shoulda figured..."

I believe Ryuune drew the correct conclusion: vanity.

"So how may I aid you today, Mother?"

"Ho, two things, my son: promise me you will marry a good woman (or three, or seven; you can never have enough, I say) and grant me the boon of seeing more grandchildren..."

Suffice to say, as with every time the mystery of matrimony and progeny arose in my youth, the rumblings of my elders went right over my head. There was good evidence I ought to be concerned, but whenever

"But, as the Mysteries will, perhaps you are still too young to be worrying your fool head that far flung into your future, so be a good son and accept your birthday present, aye? A humble coming of age surprise from yours, ever truly, to you. Oh, and do not fear, _dear_, as Chrono Clyde Harlaown Le Fay's possible spouse-to-be, I do not mind you bear witness to the occasion."

With a snap of her fingers, our very "phase" of space changed! Light changed to shadow and colors inverted into their direct opposite, turning the living room into a kind of feverish night.

"Behold, our House's oldest sorcery, a thoroughbred warhorse ever truer, traveling through the ages, _memory _cosigned into your very blood: The Mystic Code AZOTH ~ The Miracle of _Heart_."

The air churned with a searing noise, and lo, a mighty crack appeared in space like the shattering of glass. There, a humongous crystal tablet, dwarfing even an adult wookie, emerged from the tear in space-time, glowing brilliantly with an inner light that bathed the room rainbow hues. Contained within the pentagonal matrix was the source of the light: a golden glyph, archaic and **alien**, with a peculiar --- _wrongness_. The angles and curves meeting not quite right. It depicted what seemed to be a pair of winged serpents, facing in opposite directions, and together bound to parallel discs, part of a greater whole that invoked the image of _infinitas_, a looping Moebius strip without end: the Ouroboros.

"Mystic Code?" Ryuune spoke up first, rising in curiosity to the sight.

Funny, she did not seem to be affected in the slightest by the glyph's presence, but as for myself, I felt a strong headache begin to throb on my brow. My eyes waters, yet somehow, the ardor flame of my enthusiasm was not quenched at what I knew lay before me.

"Mystic...! M-Mother, is this-?!"

Little Gran nodded, "Aye, a sorcery that rivals the few surviving _True Magicks_ from the lost Age of Faerie, _fu_. How do you feel, son?"

"I...I am speechless," a half-truth; I should have told her what I felt, truly, but something...was urging me on to grasp this power, no matter the cost. "Surely, I..."

"_Fu fu fu_, enough with the self-depreciating nonsense. I have received it one too many times for you to impress me with humbleness! Why, I would have given this to you as soon as you were but a babe."

Wait, she could not be serious, could she?

"Son, do you know when was the first time you used sorcery?"

"Er..."

"Six months, three weeks, two days, fours hours, thirty-three seconds old. Aye, I can still remember where to find that _memory _too; how marvelous, the beautiful mind of a wonderful boy."

Now _that_ was quite the shocking revelation; it was unheard of for a baby to use sorcery, I assure you. Even Ryuune, who did not have a strong background in sorcery, drew the correct conclusion that such a claim was absurd.

"Have you gone barmy, _Ba_'_buir_!? How can a baby use-"

"Because my little boy is wonderful, _fufufu_," came the cryptic reply with a raised eyebrow.

Now, my own curiosity had been lit green, and I wished to see the contents of this particular _memory_ myself, though methinks, frankly, it was irresponsible of whoever left me in such a dangerous place.

"Ugh, forget it. So what does --- can this Mystic-thingie do?"

"That mystery you must bear witness to for yourself, _ad_'_ika_," the unexpected "jab", perhaps in response to her own impetus, lent water to bloom a fresh blush and a plethora of mixed feelings on my colleague. That girl, truly, is an emotional dynamo. "However, I will spare yours and my son's imagination a little of its story. As you ought to know by now, magical energy can be found in two sources: in living things and in nature. A living being's _mana_ is but a paltry drop in the ocean compared to what is all around us in air, earth, water, earth, and void. There is more _mana_ than one sorcerer can ever hope to utilize in a blink of eternity. AZOTH is our answer."

With another casual snap, the crystal lattice holding the glyph shattered too, freeing the construct within, shining even brighter than before. Ryuune was uninhibited by the brilliant display, indeed her wonder only grew, but as for I, the unpleasant feeling only worsened. Why?

"What I bequeath to thee: day and night, a _jewel _that will shine brighter through you and the World, forevermore."

Eh!?

"And the only way to control it is with '_Heart_': our very feelings, wishes, memories...by engraving these upon the crystal does it grow, and through '_Heart_' is its power invoked. Of course, reviving the dead is impossible for we do not possess the power to materialize the soul, but as to all else, what limits does this mystery possess? _Fu fu fu fu_..."

"What's the catch, _Ba_'_buir_?" the Corellian girl cut in, sternly. So much power had to have a price, after all; for as it was, the off chance fool would surely abuse it.

"When its power is unleashed, the crystal will consume a portion of your --- _Heart_. The good times, the bad times, your resolve, your pain...everything you have shared will be subject to her culling. Be wary of this power, son, this absurd jewel can make the impossible possible, the most inexplicable of sorcery, and leave **ye **with nothing. I have seen my brothers and sisters reduced to but mere mockeries, empty shells of their former selves. Not only that, there have been those who have tried to misuse this power in the past and brought about terrible calamities unimaginable: cities and nations have gone up in flame and smoke, leaving a nary a trace but _**glass**_."

What is a Man, if not the sum of his experiences, his knowledge, his accomplishments...?

"It is a sacred, demonic, nay, _pure_ power that should only be invoked in the direst of circumstances. Once unleashed, there will no stopping it. Should you survive, the crystal must be built a new once more. So, is your heart prepared to receive this boon - this **curse**?"

_Life ain't that short, brainkiller. Half the fun of forgettin' who you were is reinventin' who you are_, _ain't it so_?

"It shall be done, Miss Zoldark," Little Gran nodded, all traces of whimsical humor gone, "please, hold him still."

Wait, what!? When did I agree to-

"This may take some time to become accustomed to, son. Also, no turning this in for a grade, understood?"

Oh, shiy-!

**Black**.

* * *

Grandmother's euphemisms will never cease to amaze. It was the day after, a day of beginnings, and I felt like hell. Whatever was inside me, the _code_, it was like an invasive --- _symbiont_, forcibly rearranging my magic circuits and linker core, growing, expanding, pushing, shove, twisting, as it bonded to me. Every step left me wanting to puke and arrested my expression in a constant baleful scowl. In such terrible agony, barely soothed by the painkillers, the notion there existed something's, clearly, that you could not smile about came to me, starting with the prospect of attaining great power.

Earlier, I came across a letter in private, addressed to me from Little Gran, forbidding myself from speaking that I had earned such a birthright until I came of age, for even amongst us it was unheard for an heir so young to inherit the _Mystic Code_. Any of my concerns was to be directed to her only, and so in due time, she learned of my troubles, which to my surprise was nothing new. AZOTH tested the mettle of all its wielders; the trials tailored to the individual's character. To my misfortune, it had chosen "pain": a "metaphor" that I would bear for a long, long time to come, but as with all things, I learned to survive it for the alternative was unbearable.

Already I had suffered so much, how would bleeding a little more harm me?

Try and try again, I did not recall much else between receiving the code, the split-second inferno that blasted me into oblivion, and waking up writhing in agony. To my credit, I could not scream, for breathing was hard enough already without me wasting my breath in dramatic flourish, as I dragged my invalid corpse, crawling to the medicine cabinet. But to my mounting misfortune, I never made it there, as someone came out of the fresher and tripped over me, clad in only a towel for modesty.

"_Oi_~_i_, what's with the sourpuss face, Harlaown?" she fixed me a dour glance from across the table.

What transpired was as per rote straight from a love-comedy, for I was adorned at the hour of 0735 with fresh bacta-laced plasters, while chewing painkillers like candy. Oddly, the little things came in animal shapes and were fruit-flavored, too. When did I buy these, I wonder?

"You like you got mojo brown river backed up in the exhaust port."

"Zoldark..." I replied with equally deadpanned grace, "you must realize I am in a terrible mood right. about. _now_."

"Don't get your boxers in a twist, _now_."

"Meaning I might actually talk like a frakking detonator-eating trooper fer a-change, ten-four?"

"Take a hike, Captain Oblivious. A woman doesn't come cheap."

"You'reS.O.L., Gunner. And when was this about your gender, huh? No. Never. Nadda. Ya hacked off _Sithspit_ banshee! Now, listen here: when I say jump, yous gonna goes jumps in a lake. Now, JUMP, Gods-dammit!"

Ugh, the bad grammar...

"Much regret; unable ta comply, **Sir**! All da lakes around here is frozen, **Sir**! How 'bout Guns kisses da boo-boos away fer ye like yer tootin' milk tooth frakkin' fairy mama, _**Sir**_?"

Our first day together and things were off to a false start, to say the least. Some of it goes to myself blacking out, and an utter lack of any communication between to reach an understanding as to how business would be conducted henceforth. For starters, it might have been my imagination, but absurdly so, the faint air of enmity I had sensed about campus had **intensified **in my absence, raising many a red flag on our way over to the dining hall. Even acquaintances I had made in the past, who had expressed discontent at the order of things, now turned their ire --- nay --- their _**fear**_ to I, who had grasped power, and guilty by association, Ryuune Zoldark.

It appeared plain that going anywhere alone would be ill advised. How fortunate our class schedules were near identical. The whole situation wreaked of a grand scheme whose workings I had but touched the shallows of, still wading my way blind into the inky murk. Stakes had been risen, and I can only dread what lies ahead, as I struggle to reform a corrupt volunteer disciplinary force...I would not be surprised if they all up and quit post-haste effectively rendering me a powerless eunuch. What then would I have fought for, if only to exchange one hell for another?

Madness: I should not have struggled so hard. Now, the long climb up the mountain would be even worse, and I was still not one step closer to confirming my suspicions, which may be unfound altogether. A sign of pathogenic paranoia, perhaps? No, it was convenient, just too convenient; all the players falling into play so...

"You gonna eat that?" a fork tapped loudly on my plate of cooling scrambled green eggs and ham. The unexpected stimuli broke my ruminations and thrust me back into a pair of expectant sky blue eyes, unruffled at all by the stinging air of hostility clouding around us.

"Yes," I grumbled back, taking note of the time. Thankfully, we had plenty more to kill, before we had to be elsewhere. Best of all, there was no pucks and maids in sight to interrupt our now earnest conversation, as we had moved past the not-a-morning-person phase.

"So, you feel proud of yourself?" she had not missed the eyes.

"No, I feel like a jackass. Seasonings, please."

"Sure, and know what I'm gonna say?"

"Told ya - _**SSSPPPPIIII~CCCYYYY**_~! - so, nyeh-nyeh~!"

"Right... So, gonna apologize, Harlaown?"

"Yes."

She gave a long suffering sigh, rolling her eyes, "Do I hafta listen?"

"Yes," I chewed grimly. It was perfectly sensible food, but with my mood, it might as well be ash.

"Oh, fine. Let's hear it, tiger-_rawr_~!"

"Two things. Sorry for passing out on you. And. Sorry for dragging you into this _shavit_-hole. I thought things would be better, but...it might just end up being just you and me policing this whole school for the next two and half..."

"Do we get to use devices and crack heads, Chief? 'Cause if we do, count me in."

"We're not vigilantes, Zoldark."

"Awwww, bor~ing."

"But I'll take your suggestion into counsel," meaning I would consider it should things go ploin-shaped, after all. In fact, it might be better if it did.

"Ri~ght," Ryuune smiled, all glistening "fangs", a hungry cat ready for the hunt. I almost felt sorry for any number of people we were going to have to "discipline" soon enough with a harsh lesson in life.

When the system was corrupt and ordinary citizens became accomplices, fostering a consciousness of vice, then it was only natural that extreme measures needed to be taken. It would shorten the time I needed to reform the Student Disciplinary Committee and multiply my enemies a hundredfold, not that any would be left standing. Where did my source of confidence stem from? Well, was it not obvious enough in the hellcat across from me, and yes, even the little devil and his maid (who curiously were not anywhere in sight)?

I was not completely alone, you know.

"So, what about --- us?"

Ah, the dreaded question every being must face in his or her existence, and the one I have been asked by all who have entwined their destinies with mine. More confounding yet, it was a recurring **daemon** that never quite went away, which I am told and lead to believe was only natural. Sentient beings are constantly redefining their relationships be it in engagement, disengagement, or simply the maintenance of the status quo. In Ryuune Zoldark's case, many a thing had happened admittedly to justify her fool-headed outburst in the last twenty-four hours, and after a fashion, we were treading on new ground (after what - three false starts?).

"To begin, I think you ought to dump whatever hormonally charged absurdity my mother and her merry band of rascals put into your brain housing group. There's plenty enough for us to worry over at our age, and if that's not enough proof of my intentions, I'll come clean: I am not in the market right now. Feel free to look me up when we're out in the fleet but-"

Like a sudden thunderclap, Ryuune Zoldark burst out laughing, red to the face with uproarious mirth, tears emerging from her eyes as she banged on the table repeatedly. The sly unseen eyes, understandably, turned to openly gape at us, a few falling loudly out of their seats, frozen still before hurriedly fleeing the scene, much to my surprise. How could a little laughter spook them so much, or were they that embarrassed to be caught in the open?

"Wh-Whoa~, you might wanna stop, _pfftt-tee hee hee_, b-before you hurt yourself there, short stuff!"

I could not be sure if those were her honest feelings, but considering the obvious relish to which she expressed her bemusement, I suppose it was...genuine. ...And... Try as I might, well, there was a most peculiar ache in my chest. Must have been my imagination; after all, at the time I was in barely restrained pain, so why in the Mysteries did I feel --- hurt --- to be rejected so casually?

"In that case, I trust you have no objections accompanying me to school functions?"

And with those words, just as suddenly as her laughter began, did the Corellian hellcat choke.

"_**Urgk**_!"

"There's dances, sport events, festivals..."

"W-Wait a min-minute! What's this gotta do with me?" she snapped, coloring in a different way from before. _Hnn_, I wonder what could it mean?

My reply was swift and clinical, "Ryuune Zoldark, you are now the aide of a Student Council Committee Chairman. As part and parcel of our privileges, we are also obligated to stand by our organization in solidarity. In may be only for a few minutes but we must appear or otherwise face the consequences. Besides, all particulars and billeting have already been arranged in advance, including a small stipend for clothing, too. More importantly, we are responsible for supplementing security and order at such functions."

There was a terse moment of silence.

"If...If it's too much trouble...I can go alone," I discovered the brevity to force out after a moment, with a hapless sigh, "though if Nagi hears, which he always does sooner or later, he'll probably force me to '_borrow_' Nina from him, so..."

Of course, I did not tell her I would lose a great deal of face in front of our peers, not that I cared for appearances in the slightest. It was the possibility that my new enemies could use such a trivial thing as a weapon, real or figurative, was my cause for concern. Worse yet, how was I to keep an eye on Ryuune when I was busy being distracted on those days? Now, was not the time for either of us to be alone if we could help it, and-

"_NU_._**DRAAR**_. **CHUBBA**! You're coming with me!"

Uh...e-eh?

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.23 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. I know it was mostly housekeeping, but I hope the episode was entertaining and informative. Yes, there was a reference to Dr. Seuss in this episode among other things. Erm, I don't got much to say as I'm a little burned out as of the moment writing this, so...well, just get in touch with me afterwards through your reviews and vice-versa. Y'all should know how it is.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

And as a special treat, I have decided to include a chunky omake today, since the episode felt kind of on the short side. Please, bear with me, as this is my first attempt at a "Southern"-themed character. Blame Fallout 3 and a little Starcraft 2 (See: Tychus Findley). Don't worry, probably, won't see 'em again once the "mission" is over, as this little drably series was inspired in the vein of Grim Dark! / MS IGLOO 2 / Armored Trooper Votoms, meaning there will likely be character death. Therefore, expect to see a flux of faces come and go.

* * *

_Omake_..._HAJIME_!

* * *

M.S.E.: Tales from the Gravity Front

Battle of Geonosis

M-Log 1.1:

Crash

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

_Steve walks warily down the street / With the brim pulled way down low_

_Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet / Machine Guns ready to go_

* * *

_Cold_.

_Dark_.

Aye ain't no poet; professional guns shouldn't be wastin' time on pretty words an' fancy talk, when d'ere be plenty of enemy ta kill. Make 'em bleed for their "country", their "ideals", whateva' an' see the creds tally up on the iddy-biddy clicker o' my "eyes". Who the enemy? Don't matta who. The enemy is who Mistah Politico or Uniform Fella says it is. Aye gots the expertise. They gots the credits. Mighty fine under-standin', we have, yea'?

_But, kinda warm an' safe, too. Reminds me o' a Momma's womb, I guess_.

Don't mind, don't mind, Lordy~Lawd, the other voice inside mah cranium. It's just the way Aye am, an' this here mission record won't be genuine wit'out me - an' _me_. 'sides, Aye reckon Aye gots hired 'cause Aye so chatty and charmin' anyways.

"System reboot successful. Commencing pre-battle checks, stand-by..." twittered a sweet girl's voice, as Aye heard the hummin' crescendo o' machine an' _magick _spring back ta life, like the dead risin' from the grave.

The sunshine came back an' so did the air conditionin', too, as the wet, cold crash gel stuff that locked me up, before the crash, dissolved and was flushed back to where it belonged (sounds just like the toilet too, by the way). To see sun again so suddenly made mah eyes flinch a little, accidentally toggling a ticking icon in the heads-up-display. A transmission came crackling through in mah ears the encrypted multi-wave band comm-link built into the suit, and boy, was mah handler mad.

"Six-Four, respond! Mystra dammit, respond!" some prissy junior officer screamed at me from far, far away, safe behind all three thousand tons of ship. "You'd better not be playing games with me, you sick nerf-frakking psychopath! You'd better not. Remember, I've got the overrides right here that'll send you up in a little microfusion holo-"

"Now, is that any-way ta greet a body who just survived an almost fatal crash, Sah?" Aye entertained the good officer, feeling a little charitable for a change, in mah ol' slow, deliberate Southerner drawl. "_Sheila_'s tryin' her best ta wake up wit'out you hollerin' and barkin'. Can't rush a woman ta do what she's gots ta do, ya know? 'sides, Aye know you ain't serious 'bout blowin' up this multi-million cred war machine. The muscle engine alone inside this powered device has seen more action than you've gots girlfriends times thirty, an' that's me bein' nice."

"_Urrghhh_..."

"All checks, cleared. Good morning, Deathwatch Six-Four: welcome to the Elite Powered Trooper Armor, .6, unit designation - _Sheila_."

"What the?!"

"Wasn't me, Sah; pinky promise on it." Aye reckon Aye could hear the poor boy blowin' a fuse mighty red with an aneurism knowin' Aye tinkered with the P.D. armor's on-board "Simple AI", a bit some.

"Temperature thirty-point-eight degrees centigrade, humidity five-percent. Uplink to TacCom stable, awaiting orders."

"Nav checks mighty fine, too, Sah. Aye ain't too far from where Aye suppose I ought ta be, if the bird hadn't been shot down. ...Aye's gonna gets a bonus for that, right? Hardship?"

_Ah_, _that klaxon_. _Red alert_. _Sounds like trouble_, _Aye_ _reckon_.

"Warning: unidentified humanoids approaching, heading two o' clock. IFF is a negative. Disposition: hostiles. Number, approximately thirty-six."

_Platoon strength; four nine-man squads; two fireteams a piece_.

"Holy balls o' gas an' fire, hold the phone, Sah. Betta yet, just send the word ta me. Aye'll execute soon as Aye am done playin' with the Tin Men."

"Belay that, Six-Four, I haven't given permission to en-"

"Returnin' to comms silence; Six-Four, out."

_Time for an ambush_, _Aye reckon_.

* * *

Normally, a three meter tall armored giant of a man (Aye am a big boy, so the armorers gave me bigger specs) was pretty hard ta miss, even painted with the right camouflage. But between the smoking flambé remains of the bird Aye came in, and the hoopla of the all out war going on the flat plains (_Jedi _raggin' on the Seps) Aye could spy and hear from mah vantage up on the ridge, it was pretty easy for me ta blend in. The crash site itself was a mess, plenty of cover and natural obstacles ta break line of sight, which made it all the easier for me ta see the Sep boys trooping up the slope in perfect clockwork step.

Aye didn't have ta expose mahself either: cameras on mah "fingers", usually gots a protective retractable plate over 'em. Small, subtle, and through a small vid-window on mah HUD, Aye saw 'em plain as day, just as Aye suspected: "Tin Men", battle droids, whole buncha stupid B1s - cheap cannon fodder, some B2 - SBDs, and was that a Sep flesh 'n' blood body in a cloak? Crazy. Reckon they ain't the ones who done in mah bird, but the Geos musta sent 'em ta clean up afterwards.

_Adjust motive power twenty-five percent _. _Fire Control Slave: Auto Assist on. Muscle Engine Mufflers: On. Weapon select: draw, M14c compact burst rifle, magazine: eighty rounds, load, charging handle to the rear, observe chamber, HEI round chambered, close ejection port cover, fire-select: semi-auto, finger off the trigger; holster._

There was not an awful lot of cover coming up the slope, good for me, bad for 'em, and it did not help they were gosh darn noisy, too. Range finders already pegged the droids at a hundred meters; a normal man with a good arm could toss a thermal detonator forty meters, but as for me...

_Weapon select: Chaos Bomb, plottin' optimal trajectory. Watch the blue arc line on the HUD_...

...a powered device, like the one Aye wore, transformed the already extraordinary mage to near-superhuman status. Tough as a tank and bringing all that de~licious firepower inta a-sweet tactical package even a run of the mill grunt can enjoy. Everything runs on _mana_ made by yours truly and sippin' some from the air. Ammo? Unlimited as long as you can wait and gots the intestinal fortitude to let the device handle the complicated parts. Aye was the god of war on two itty-biddy big legs, and the only things holdin' me back was time, heat, and me.

_Go_.

* * *

_Are you ready? / Are you ready for this? / Are you you hanging on the edge of your seat?_

_Out of the doorway the bullets rip...!_

* * *

From behind mah piece of cover, a jagged chunk of wing from the LAAT/i leanin' upright against a thick spire of ash rock, Aye watched the frag 'nade arc over beautiful like, reachin' the apex of mah toss in heartbeats. One tin critter smack dab in the middle of the platoon stopped and looked up all dumb like (stupid fool), holdin' up the rest of the fellas behind him in a noisy clatter. You'd hafta be an individual of supreme observation to see a frag comin', normally, but seein' as Aye was much larger than life, so was mah grenades, too: big black cylinder, painted red on the ends.

_Optimal height reached_. _Targets in the killzone_. _Execute_.

On mah signal, the cylinder hissed open revealin' a dispenser, lined ta the teeth with mini-saboted light armor penetrators. It wasn't a bad way to put it when you say "Steel Rain", 'cause that was exactly what came down, when the dispenser started spittin' almost insta-death. Usin' a weapon meant ta engage "protected" mages and light armored vehicles didn't spell well for the droids, they were torn ta pieces in a heartbeat, the roarin' rain reapin' through 'em like a scythe ta wheat.

_Adjust motive power thirty-eight percent. Sprint!_

Aye didn't wait for the Chaos Bomb ta finish unloadin', poppin' out from mah hidey hole and tearin' straight down the slope in a breathless rush. See, the dispenser was already trackin' towards the rear, kickin' up a fuss that hid my rapid lopin' approach. Even those logical clockwork soldiers can't hear, much less a ten-foot tall giant a-comin', Aye swear, with mah buncha artificial glow-in-the-dark eyes.

_Thud_, _Thud_, _Thud_, _Thud_!

Adrenaline be poundin' now, as Aye spy mah heart rate jump in the HUD, targets disappearin', the B1's crushed like soda cans underneath my "steel treads". Tactical application of superior firepower annihilated the platoon into scrap and occasional warblin' death knell. The rain ended up a little short of the tail end, but Aye just busted out the M14c.

_PHAAK_! _PHAAK_! _PHAAK_!

Fourteen-point-Five Mike Mike, High Explosive Incendiary turned the last few "dumb" battle droids into flamin' shrapnel, blowin' 'em inside out. It was about now in close quarters battle range, that is Aye could see black reflection off the SBD's visors, when the "smart" ones knew what was up. They fan out, arm-mounted twin laser cannons set to tri-fire (spray and pray), fillin' the air with red flashin' bolts of light. Aye was already in too close for 'em ta commit for accurate fire, though they had the firepower ta actually do something ta me.

Veerin' hard right, still downhill, actuators in the ankle whirrin' ta compensate, Aye take a random OO buck's worth of las-bolts. They splatter up against the Auto-Guarder: little blue "Round Shields" flickerin' and evaporatin' on demand ta take the hits. Experience keeps me a-goin', no time ta hesitate, as the shield meter whines and drops.

_PHA-PHAAK_! _PHA-PHAAK_!

See the muzzle flash, barely notice the kick: two B2 Super Battle Droids, _flash_, sparks fly, fall back in slow-mo like, lasers blazin', and burst into flame and shrapnel. Feels like old times, a movie of me against the world's ugly side, movin' and shootin', slavers, "hired help", and the pigs all dyin' and squealin' together real orderly; crystal clear, one of the few times Aye can say the galaxy makes sense, reckon so. Turn ta the last two comin' up fast, almost right on top of 'em now, Aye flick fire control ta full auto and rake right through 'em.

_Shields 65% and holdin'_.

Aye leap over 'em, slidin' and spinnin' about on dirt ta zero on the speedometers. S'all over, less than thirty seconds, and one man has reduced the Seps finest ta smoke and... Wait, there was only thirty-five of...where's-?!

_FULL ACTION_!

Goin' from standin' and explodin' instantly into a back flip ain't easy, nor was it standard procedure in the first place. Even with the powered device's muscle engine helpin' ya big time at full power, your own body needs ta understand the forces at work, so you don't dag gone hurt yourself like a damn fool. But for a man like me who solves "problems", it was darn beautiful: the ground shattered explosively underneath my feet, as Aye "flew" skyward.

Almost a full five times stronger than Aye am, blood and fight fever hot in mah veins, Aye felt free as a bird, and considerin' Aye could still feel mah bottom half, it musta mean Aye cheated death yet again. Of course, it was too soon ta celebrate, for Aye heard another earth shatterin' impact followin' me a second later. Never a good sign, altimeter already reads fifteen meters up (almost fifty feet); Aye roll and tuck up into ball, gleamin' a bit in the desert sun, complete half a rotation and spring back out, M14c cocked, and...

Holy Mother of Mystra! That's-

_It's the cloaked one, and THAT's a BIG_ sword.

No one said a word about no dag gone _real_ mages!

* * *

_To the sound of the beat._

* * *

To be extended...?


	25. Entry 1 24: IoJ

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.24:

Idiots of Justice

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Time rests for no man, and so the day carried onwards, as much I would have preferred puzzling out the mystery of Ryuune Zoldark some more. The not-so subtle reminder of pain, after she had tossed out the most vividly emphatic of _Mando_'_a_ refusals / invective in my fact to hose me down in strange flash of euphoric bewilderment, only served to hammer home the fact. First things first, time to get acquainted with a new semester of "Modern Combatives": having passed the initial course work, namely the study of ancient warrior cultures and philosophy to nurture our mental discipline and character, we would be allowed now to begin actual weapons specialization. Prior, we were restricted to advancing our proficiency in hand-to-hand fighting techniques, for we were deemed unfit, lacking the proper education to appreciate and respect the new strength we would obtain.

Of course, this warrior education is continuous. Failure to meet standards or exceed expectations can result in penalties, such as remedial training, the student being barred from attaining higher techniques, and / or certification. But on the contrary, the "old traditions" were not a requirement of our professional military education at all: the basic sustainment for officers and enlisted was a tan belt, qualifying rifle score, a D-rank in "Staves", and passing PFT (other requirements vary from service to service). It would not help you get promoted any time soon, I assure you, not to mention it sends a maelstroms worth of possible messages about yourself to higher...

But, ah, I digress. See, today was special for more than just because the first lesson: an ultimatum I had forgotten about virtually was about to be realized. My only warning was the smell: a nostalgic combination of wet wool, mold, and a pungent oily musk. I thought maybe it was the heat, or perhaps, poor ventilation in the old classroom attached to the particular minimalist gymnasium set aside for us. Sixty odd people of various races and dispositions, from eager to hung over, gathered in a hot locale tended to stink things up quite fast, despite the best intentions of cologne, perfumes, and antiperspirant deodorants.

By some strange turn of the Wheel of Fortune, the ever rascally Nagi Dai Artai and his stoic Maid of Honor had ended up in the same section as myself and Ryuune. Taking prime position to my left, I was soon wrangled helplessly into idle chatter, lulling me into a false sense of security that, indeed, it had only been my imagination. The sudden crackle of a loud baying trill put an end to such delusions with the certain bark of a blaster, silencing the class in an instant.

It was a bizarre bone chilling noise, liken to half-dog and half-insect, accompanied by a disgusting wet squelch as the creature itself began to --- scuttle about, feeding the seed of terror that had been planted into the room. The fear of the unknown, though, was lost to myself and my eclectic companions. Nagi with his ineffable cheer looked to me expectantly, while Ryuune tried to ascertain the origin of the agitating sound so she can tear it to pieces, and her comparable number, Nina, the patient hunter, waited in staid anticipation for whatever interloper to reveal itself. I wished for once the puck was not right, but I seemed to have given myself away completely, the mask of concentration self-evident on my face.

"Lord Mird..."

A sudden crash swiftly muffled by a blood curling scream brought us rising out of our seats before I could even finish. Chaos erupted as a full third of the class bolted for the exits or sat stupefied. Another third of us gave a wide berth of the squabble of limbs and screams, gazing in a peculiar horrid fascination; the final remaining third pushed their way past the gawkers to confront the scene, and soon came at a loss for what to do. In the center of the calamity was a one-meter long or so, six legged beast with a whip of life, which, like the rest of its body was covered in blubbery, loose flaps of skin. Short fur of a gold hue lined this particular specimen, and it continued to bay dangerously from its huge, fanged mouth, slavering upon the overpowered youth beneath it.

The amazing part was it had taken down a strapping, tall chalk-white skinned youth (likely a Rattataki by his skin color and bald head), who seem barely contained in his uniform by virtue of his impressive physique. I heard stories that his kin had some form of natural mind control, not to mention they were natural warriors thanks to their long violent history. However, to see him, the most threatening and biggest of us, by such a fierce "little" thing seemed to have taken the fight out of even the group willing to respond.

"So that's a _**strill**_," Ryuune remarked with a disturbingly thoughtful expression. "_Cute_."

She could not be serious, could she?

"And cunning, too," Nagi agreed all smiles.

Please, tell me this was all sarcasm...

"Lord, convincing the creature of regular hygiene will be no easy task," Nina added in all seriousness. Oddly, she had her gas mask on her person today, dangling from her neck on open display for all curious eyes. I wonder, why...does not exactly seem like the sort of thing that would be considered a -- fashionable accessory. "But should thou will it, this one believes the strill shall see some benefit in being an educated gentlebeing. At the least, 'tis simple matter to hunt one's prey when **it **is no different from the land."

My sanity took a hit, much to my dismay, as our little group began to discuss various uses a strill could be used for "combat" (read: hunting down unlikeable fellows) and more common every day pleasures. I was more worried as to how I was going to "convince" Lord Mirdalan to leave the Rattataki boy alone, whom had just soiled a perfectly good pair of trousers too, then. Oh, trust me, it and I were quite - _familiar_; my subtly trembling hands, clenching and unclenching, in anticipation of possible attack.

The little bastard had always looked at all of the recruits like we were a potential meal, and made it a habit to slip out at night past firewatch to "snuggle" up with a less than fortunate boy for the evening. You can only begin to imagine the screams and commotion in the morning before the spry little critter made good its escape, leaving us to deal with an unamused Sergeant Major...

_Wait, that's it_! _If Mird's here_, _then __**HE**_-

"That's enough, Mird; leave the pissing _shabuir_ alone," commanded a primal voice as certain and malevolent as cold steel, yet lacking - strangely - the over-the-top sadistic glee I had come to expect. There he was Master Drill Instructor Walon Vau at the front of the room, cutting a striking figure, clad in black Mandalorian armor. Lord Mirdalan crooned as if swooning at the sight of the cruel man(?). "You _shabla_ _ge_'_verd_ that just sat stupid, stay; the _hut_'_uunla_ _chakaar'se_ who think it's funny to _ba'slan shev'la_ and leave your _vode_ behind, you got ten seconds to get back inside my _frakkin_' classroom, now!"

He was hacked off. I could see it in his eyes.

"The rest of you, flaming_ di'kute_: _outside_. _**fly**_."

With a snap of his fingers, I had never seen boys and girls move faster. When that door closed, it was as if a blast bulkhead had been sealed shut, dooming whoever was left inside to their fates. For once I felt no obligation to stick my nose somewhere it did not belong, obviously; I was not ready to face this _new _Walon Vau, an entirely different man from just sharpening his razor edge to a new finish.

**Black**: did that not mean...

* * *

"...**Justice**," Ryuune finished my thought, unexpectedly. Ever the expert on Mandalorian culture, she had been explaining to us, quite enthusiastically, on the meanings of the colors that adorned one's armor.

Justice? Vau, the Villian, the Cruel Tyrant, the Boogeyman, who transformed mewling children into soldiers: _that _Walon Vau I knew did not seem like the kind of man to concern himself with moral rightness. Then again, I was not particularly qualified to make objective judgments about his character, being a product irreversibly "shaped" by him. The memories alone of the trials imprinted into my very fiber, which I survived, was enough to aggravate the endless pain I carried now.

We had been idling out in the gymnasium for the better of thirty minutes, since the Sergeant Major effectively kicked us all out. Naturally, the cadets had all agreed to make a good impression on the furious man, that is, not piss into his power supply again by arranging ourselves into a formation of three ranks. Our senior on deck was a blossoming female Zeltron of fifteen cycles, so she had the honor of stepping out in front as our acting platoon sergeant, a privilege none of us envied. Mystra only knows what kind of mood Vau would be in when he came out of his "hut".

And... _**BANG**_! There he came storming out with Lord Mirdalan dutifully scuttling by at his heels. Oh Lady of Mysteries, there goes civilian tax credits for the door along with the door hinge. Did anyone ever teach this man to open doors the civilized way when he was angry?

"Platoon, attention!" our de facto platoon sergeant about faced and cried (read: squealed in a painfully, laughable girlish squeak) out, or at least she tried-

"_Usen'ye, shabuir_! You're fired!" Vau barked out fast as a quad-blaster cannon. The mad look in his eyes screamed of a man possessed with untold fury, such that he paced back and forth in front of our formation, muttering incoherently, before turning sharply on his heel and gave a crisp snap of his fingers again. "_Osik_! Cadet Harlaown! Where the fierfek are you? I know you're here, so come on out, GUIDE! Come out, and call my frakking _shabla _milkmaid platoon to attention! NOW."

Holy Sith! Mystra. Why. ME?! Still, as much as I complained, all habits died hard that is once you render obedience to someone and know the consequence of disobedience, 'tis hard not to obey again.

"What? No, '_Aye, Sergeant Major_'? Get back!"

_Durp_, _durp_; how could I forgot something that important?

"Aye, Sergeant Major!"

Backpedal on the double.

"_Cadet_, get on your face! The exercise will be Marine Corps push-ups. This will be a four-count exercise on my mark. Also, don't worry, _Cadet _Harlaown; this isn't hazing because I'll be doing it with you. In fact, the entire platoon will be doing it with **US**. When I give the command, assume the starting position: MOVE!"

The phrase "Aw, FFFFFFFFFFFFF-!" was the general consensus, I believe, as none of the cadets wanted to taste the mortification of being treated like recruits. However, the Sergeant Major had rank, and we had - _nothing_. Therefore, his word was law, especially since he was using his old exaggerated Master Drill Instructor accent.

"Push UP~!"

"Marines Corps!"

"I can't he~ar you~. Get on your face! Pu~sh UP!"

"MARINE CORPS."

"We're do~in' this, a~gain. Push U~P!"

"_MARINE CORPS_!"

And a-one, two, three...

"Good: RE~COVER. Now, call my platoon to attention, _Cadet_ Harlaown."

"AYE, SERGEANT MAJOR!"

This time I did not make the mistake of thinking twice. Moving with a great sense of urgency, almost scurrying on all fours, I moved to execute. Checked my distance, back straight, thumbs to the seams of my trousers, deep breath, and roar out in my best "big man" voice:

"_'TOON_: **KE**-"

"As you were," Vau cuts me off in mid-shout with a snap of his fingers. I swear, Lord Mirdalan snickers at my expense, as my cheeks color with red in front of the entire class. "Where are the _shabuir _who just stood there and looked when Cadet Pisspants... A~ah, there you lot are. You, you, you, and you; all of you in second squad and half of third, starting from the Chiss down. I remember your faces, so just step on out now and get out of my face. Consider yourselves suspended from this course, effectively, until you go to your next school or my rotation here is over in three cycles. See, I only have twenty-one cadets, officially, as of this moment."

The shocking declaration took a moment to sink in. By some fluke, my companions and I were exempt from the sudden culling, but a moment was still a moment too slow for the Sergeant Major's liking.

"...What the frak are you standing there for? Mird: get them!"

Once the cunning strill was set loose upon us, bodies started moving fast, just like before. Frankly, I could not blame them either; between the man and his pet, it was better that they not take their chances, period, in some lame hope of turning aside his-

_Snap_!

"Now, Cadet Harlaown, call my platoon to attention."

"Aye," I turn to acknowledge him, "Sergeant Major," before executing, "_'TOON_, **KE**'_**SUSH**_!"

Apparently so, old habits die harder in the case of Walon Vau.

"Morning, cadets, and welcome. I am the chief instructor for this course, Sergeant Major Walon Vau. Under no circumstances will you address me by my name or other terms, until you've earned the privilege to do so. I am the Sergeant Major, and you will be under my watchful eye for the next three cycles. You'll be assigned to appropriate instructors to suit your training regimen. Do. Not. Be. Late, especially if you find yourself luckless enough to be assigned directly to me for instruction.

"My areas of expertise are knife fighting techniques and the integrated combined arms martial art, Close Quarters Combat, simply known as **CQC**. You will not be allowed to learn CQC, until you have achieved green belt status in MCMAP and have a C-rank in proficiency with some form of weapon, preferably knives or daggers. Advanced forms can be applied with a variety of other weapon types, but for the basics, well, we'll make do somehow. But remember this: CQC is meant to supplement all you will learn, not replace the fundamentals. Combining the two together will create your own unique martial style, and grant you the honor of prestiging your martial belts: Degrees of Mastery, from first to the tenth degree. Note, it is also considered - _Degrees of Lethality_.

"**I** am a fifth degree black belt, and a certified master level practitioner, _Shidoin_. It **will **take you many cycles before you climb up to that summit. I just have the unfortunate advantage of having made **War **my business for a long, long time. Any questions?"

As we were standing at attention, it would be a gross breach of close order drill to speak, a clever use of protocol on his part to shut us all up. Sincerely, I did not even believe for a moment he was in the mood to entertain questions. Whatever happened behind those doors had him royally hacked off.

"Good, now in a few moments, our special honorary guest for the day will be making his appearance. Listen, learn, and watch. Do. Not. Embarrass. Me. Any further. I promise, you won't hit the rack in peace tonight, if I hear even a peep of disrespect come slipping out of your filthy traps."

A distant bark from Lord Mirdalan, hanging back by the side exit off-set from the double bay-size doors at one end of the old gymnasium, was an enthusiastic curtain call as any.

"Platoon Sergeant, take charge of the platoon and carry out the plan of the day," Vau did not salute as he was presently "uncovered".

"Aye, Sergeant Major!" I bark right back, before turning back around to address the platoon. "'_TOON_: rest."

We all watch him leave out of the corner of our eyes, a beast in the tall, cadaverous sinew of a man. When I first and last saw him, he had been a cruel, borderline sadistic Drill Instructor, campaign hat and all, veteran of more wars than you could count off your ten fingers (note: I apply this only to humans and near-humans). With a glistening sneer and the sharp eyes of a bird-of-prey, he had systematically weeded out all the weak and feeble, transforming a gaggle of children into a trained, disciplined platoon ready and willing to kill for "God and Country" at the first sound of the horn. Though to be frank, it was not so much out of patriotism we would have fought, but the horrible possibility of disappointing Master Drill Instructor Sergeant Major Walon Vau: that absolute worst-case scenario must. not. happen. period.

And today, he had gone from the old Marine to --- well, simply put --- death on two legs. A chameleon, no, something else... This was not just camouflage, but a complete metamorphosis. Now, there was no swagger, no performance that would have seemed theatrical in comparison to the he of the present. So, it became apparent to me that I had not the faintest clue what the real Walon Vau was like, the Mandalorian that is.

Further contemplation on my part was put on hold indefinitely, as a quartet of new faces arrived on deck. The fourth and the third were entirely forgettable. Human males between ages of 18 and 22 cycles; Army ratings; one in greasy overalls worn over his jumpsuit, probably works in Motor-T, Airwing, or something vehicular in nature. The other fellow was a combat medic. His mechanically inclined colleague's immediate attention was rather absorbed in a hand-held scanner of sorts that he kept trained over the second member of the group.

**It **was a gray-colored battle droid of a make and type I was unfamiliar with, standing at a respectable two meters tall, and gazing outward with light blue photoreceptors: two in the head and one auxiliary unit visible on its abdominal armor plate. Clad in a desert-pattern camouflage cloak, the droid struck us all, I imagined, as a dangerous, menacing figure. The ease of its gait, far more natural and graceful than the staff back at my own home, combined with its decidedly "human" swagger sent a clear message that here was a state of the art engine of destruction.

A couple of, no doubt, habitual twirls of its powered down electrostaff in its inhumanly dexterous and capable hands let us know that it was a close-combat specialist too. It had to be considering the familiar Iridonian. If it were not for the setting, and the protocols of close order drill, I would have gone to greet him at once.

"Officer on deck!" that was the next best thing I could offer.

The trio soon arrived before us, and after a little pacing on the battle droid's part to get their distance, the droid turned to address us first, his digitized manly, bombastic letting us know that he was indeed a "He":

"PLAH-TOON: **A**-**TEN**-_HUUUNGH_!"

Why he sounded just like an Army Drill Sergeant, too. He took a moment to survey us in good order, before taking a step back and to the side, turning things over to a bonafide Bureau legend:

"At ease, cadets!"

A mild hubbub rose as we were allowed to relax in earnest at last, and certainly, Grandfather was an immediate hot topic. A striking sight to behold he was, with his aqua-hued skin, golden eyes, and mane of dark hair. He was battle ready in a glossy black electromesh battlesuit and "Olde Ye Faithful" at the ready by his side. His horns and the facial tattoos, which seemed to create the delusion that he had a second pair of eyes upon his brow, completed his famed moniker: "_The Blue Daemon_".

"Good morning, cadets!" his unfailing bass boomed out in a more kindly tone.

"Good morning, Sir!" already the air about us was beginning to change with a peculiar restless anticipation that I could not quite explain. Was it because the Sergeant Major had left? Or was it because everyone, including myself, shared the same mutual thought of what was about to happen?

"I am Colonel Jaohm, special attaché to Lord Admiral Hood at FLEETCOM, Segmentum-Your-Present-Security-Clearance-Doesn't-Cover-It. Reputably a _**Sword Saint**_, at least according to the esteemed eyes of my colleagues, I am your guest speaker for the day, due to _certain _--- extenuating circumstances."

Another round of whispers and murmurs went through the ranks behind me. Not surprising, when you tried to account for the two bombshells Grandfather had dropped into our laps. I think, he would have already earned all ears with just his certification as a "_Sword Saint_", which spoke volumes of his martial prowess.

"To my left is Sergeant RL-5, an IG-100 Self-Motivating Heuristically Programmed Combat Droid, A-K-A the MagnaGuard series, from Holowan Mechanicals."

"_Hooah_! Another a glorious day in the Union Army, Sir!" the droid came smartly to a modified "rifle" salute, using his electrostaff, with enviable precision timing.

"In other words, he is both a capable bodyguard and battle droid. The sergeant has participated in numerous combat actions, and had the unenviable luck of being ordered to engage the Jedi, during the regrettable hours of Order 66."

"It was a good fight. I held them off for a good five minutes, before I --- made a mistake. Sir, a moment's silence?"

What? A battle droid that makes mistakes!?

"Certainly. **Cadets**: let us pray."

Order 66 will always be a sour point in the greatest war ever fought in the galaxy. Back then, the Bureau was not around yet, but our congressmen had deployed our forces under the banner of the Union J.S.F. or Joint Strike Force, as our contribution to the Grand Army of the Republic. Separate from the chain of command, we were encouraged to operate independently or cooperate with the GAR to "achieve peace in the galaxy", which was the same privilege given to other member states of the Republic, whom had pledged their private forces to the war effort. The reasoning was that normal "regulars" would impede upon the efficiency and _espirit de corps_ of the all clone army, led by the Jedi and select officers of the Judicial Forces.

Of course, we had an incentive to fight as did the other allied nations, but to be there when Supreme Chancellor Palpatine --- nay --- the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious showed his true colors at last, left a ghastly after taste in our mouths. What if the culling had not stopped with the Jedi? What if he had turned the Guns of the Republic against us as well? How would we have responded against the might of the entire galaxy?

None of it ever happened because the Sith, naturally, are creatures of betrayal, but...

"Amen."

Eyes on.

"I am not going to subject to the torture of a longwinded lecture on the importance of what you are about embark upon, cadets. The phrase: actions speak louder than words, has always proven to be the best teacher in my experience. Therefore, the sergeant and I will be putting on a demonstration, and if it isn't clear to you yet, neither myself nor he are..._Mages_."

There was hardly a moment's pause for shock, before a titanic crackling clash broke out: humming blue meeting scintillating purple.

"_HARK_: Hear me, 'O Children of the Light! Some day that fated hour will dawn, when you will come upon each other: your enemy! You mustn't rely on _magick_. It is but a tool, fickle and transient. Master it, a part of you it shall become, but not the totality of you. For that day, your claws, teeth, eyes, ears, hands, and feet must be ready...! When you can cry, '_ENEMY_'! When you can shout, '_MY ENEMY_'! I believe...! Believe that chance will come!"

What in...! This feeling. Those words... Where have I heard... I feel --- the colors are..._bleeding_?

* * *

_"Il Forte! Today's very important! You promised you would try to wake up early today!"_

_"'ey, 'ey, 'ey, ain't it the li'l prince himself!"_

_"Tch. Silver tongued, aren't you? A mark of an officer, and of a liar. I hope you're not too in love with the sound of your own voice!"_

* * *

It was...some time later(?) that I regained consciousness, oddly, **standing up**. Something had happened, did it not? I remembered... I _can_'_t_ remember? No, there was something new, memories that were not there before: unfamiliar voices and words, but all addressed to this "Il Forte". I --- I could almost see, taste, smell, but...

**PAIN**.

On reflex, a glove clad hand, my hand, shot up, grabbing a fistful of leather, whining a peep under the intense tension, but failing to claw into my aching chest. It was like a swarm of pygmy fire ants, the poison burning deep, beneath easy flesh, and straight into the throbbing heart. A voiceless snarl twisted my expression, as another blackening hand fumbled through jumbled memories, grabbing blindly for the bottle of - vision doubling, air sweltering, salt...

"Art thou unwell, young lord?" a voice interrupted, and let slip through my nerveless hand the now so precious bottle.

It was quite a horrible sight, all in slow motion, watching the white little thing fall to the ground. There would be questions. Questions I was not authorized to answer, and then, eve-ry-thing. would. fall. a...

The bottle hit the toe of a black boot, instead, bounced upwards in a unbelievably lucky parabolic arc. I made to reach for it, but another set of black clad hands, not mine, intercepted it first. Pop went the top, along with all the blood in my face rushing down south to my bowels from unspeakable horror, the debilitating pain forgotten for a moment. Dark sky, shrieking wind, and thunderbolts: the overwhelming weight of doom, imminent, hovered over me no different from the certain, patient scythe of the Grim Reaper.

Thoughts of how I could possibly outmaneuver my wonderful disaster was put on hold by a helpful reminder of my nocireceptors: the kind reminiscent of a Mandalorian crushgaunt reducing someone's to congealed "watermelon". Naturally, I grew faint but the unexpected struck again for I was caught, something shoved into my trembling hand, and forced into my gaping mouth. Gag reflex exacerbated the instant, but as there was an abundance of liquid gel capsules tumbling right in, my only real choice was to swallow, having forgotten to breath through my nose.

I have no recollection of how many I swallowed, likely more than what was safe, but the effect was instantaneous, sweeping me away in an analgesic induced "high". Whoever was supporting me, a steady hand against my shoulder, must have seen the glassy film appear on my now heavy-lidded eyes for the near empty bottle was then withdrawn. Now, allowing my pseudo light-headed gaze to level back down did they bear witness to my "savior".

"N-n-Nina Wang?!" try as I might I could not help but gape, as mine met her stern amber-hued eyes.

She did not reply immediately, instead bringing us closer to loop her arm through the crook of mine so she do away with the incriminating bottle, returning it to me(!). Then, did Nina speak, barely louder than a husky whisper, as she produced a wad of tissues, "Young lord, thy nose."

"Uh, yes?"

Obviously, I did not catch her meaning in my daze, but she took my words as an affirmation to do what she intended and gently pinched my nose shut with the aforementioned tissues. I was _robbed _of word and breath. The gesture was _unusual_, to say the least, and under the intense focus of her gaze, a blush damnably crept onto my face. Was this the sort of "preferred" treatment Nagi Dai Artai received on a regular basis? Well, I suppose, I have experienced something similar from my household's droid staff, but..._erm_... It felt close to a moment with Mother or Grandmother, but somehow, vastly _different_...

When she finally withdrew did the cause for her solicitous behavior become clear. A nosebleed?! Why was my nosebleeding?

"Th-Thank you, Nina," but even in my bewilderment, apparently, good manners had not failed me.

"'Twas nothing," she replied as per rote, pocketing away yet another piece of evidence.

Then, I noticed the young Maid of Honor had made no move to separate herself from me. My bewilderment grew, naturally, and I began to observe and fumble around as to her motives. Her unwaveringly ascetic gaze struck down the crackpot possibility of affection or physical attraction instantly, but such a wild theory, also allowed me to take in my surroundings into account. We were still in the gymnasium, mostly empty, save there was an animated conversation, verily so, emanating from behind the ultramarine-haired girl. The voices were recognizably that of Nagi, Ryuune, and my grandfather.

Could it be she was shielding me from their line of sight? And why did their words sound a little --- muted?

My body spoke for me, and Nina deduced correctly so, "Worry not, young lord. _She _will not ask of thee what thou cannot or will not speak of."

This _girl_...

"But if it is thy wish to keep this silent, it would be best to ask an oath of this one. Do not feel burdened for asking such a thing. My Lord favors thee with much adoration, and as such this one is obligated to thee as per His wishes. Even should thou come to blows with His Lordship, _She_ will not betray thy words, unless thou should release _Her_."

What a thing to say, yet coming from a mortal being, made of flesh-and-blood, it felt overwhelmingly powerful.

I believed her, "Th-Thank you."

"It is done," Nina breathed deeply, "Are thou well enough to stand?"

"Yes," at least, I thought so.

"Then, we shall part here."

Like a bubble popping, sound and the heat of the gymnasium came rushing right back, as if they were moving to fill in a void. An epiphany struck me but a heartbeat later, making my jaw drop again. _Nina Wang_. I watched her efficiently stride back to the animated gathering, and their eyes turn to, encouraging me to join them, boisterously. _That girl_...

Had she used a spell without a device?

Alas, there was no time to consider my newest mystery further, for soon I found myself being nearly manhandled over by a hissing mad Corellian hellcat. Guess our mutual little puck managed to set her off somehow or another again.

* * *

In the past, I never had much of a thought on spending "down time" with Grandfather. Being with him, Mother, or Grandmother was a circumstance that happened to be, and my then younger self simply accepted to be fact. The very concept of "down time" had not existed, until I had stepped out from beyond the woods of our ancestral home. Now, there was a such ideas as time management, schedules, deadlines, milestones, standards, and of course, relationships to which I had been wholly oblivious. How strange it was that a matter of months could change a growing boy's perspective so much?

I wonder how much more I will change by the time I graduate.

"What troubles you, son?" Grandfather rumbled forth, seated across on a folding chair. His left arm was notably hanging limp in a sling and he sported a fresh bacta-laced bandage around his forehead. From the premises, I deduced the demonstration "duel" between himself and Sergeant RL-5, which I had no recollection of to my private disturbance, had gotten quite spirited.

"It has been some time since we last met face to face, father," I, too, was seated after the same fashion.

Thanks to the machinations of Nagi Dai Artai, the rest of our "whimsical" troupe had up and disappeared on account of giving me a private moment with the colonel. The reasoning went that they had been hogging his attentions the entire time; therefore, I was entitled to monopolize him, too. I thought it strange they did not know of my relation to him, but if they had not asked, Grandfather was never the type of man to volunteer information off-handedly.

As for why we addressed each other as such, well, it was a simple question of respect, and a bit of awkward tale of my much younger self recognizing him to be my father. I was only a babe then, and I just happened to acknowledge the big blue-skinned daemon to be my patriarch. Children, as I will come to realize some day down the line, are prone to fantastic attachment, and always, old habit die hard. Of course, I was educated to who my father was truly...

* * *

_Kinda hard to call a Mr. Hero, who was barely ever there, 'Pops', ain't it_?

* * *

What.

"Steady!"

A voice?

"Ca...!"

Must have been...

"Chrono!"

Just like that the haze lifted, and I returned to the surface of consciousness: a breath of fresh air.

"I'm... I'm... Who?" I blurted out, a fool, a hand, my hand pressing up against my temple.

"Chrono, speak: what ails you?"

Grandfather: he looked so worried. No choice.

I smiled, "Ah, it's nothing," and lied, "just a little jet lag is all."

Of course, it was not all a lie, but how casually I reacted struck a disturbing discord in me. Grandmother had forced such a fate on me --- no, that was childish and unlike what a Le Fay would do... I accepted this power with my own free will. It had its price. I could only hope he would understand.

Soki Jaohm of Le Fay glowered down at me. It appeared Grandfather was an experienced disassembler and my feint had been seen through rather easily, or perhaps... "_**Son**_. Did Morgan come through-"

I was saved an interrogation by the untimely ping of a PDA: the ring tone indicating urgency and one that did not belong to me, either. With great vehemence, the proud Iridonian warrior rose, and stepped away, with the awkward ponder of a predator forced to abandon his kill. For a second, he even considered crushing his PDA outright, before whatever he saw on the screen evidently changed his mind, moving further away for some semblance of privacy.

Sweet Mother of Mysteries, how did he know about Grandmother's visit? Then again, I did not know much about how they operated in their professional lives. Grandfather, obviously, was a military man, but as for Grandmother Morgan, it was anybody's guess what she did, though I imagine it was quite important.

What seemed like an eternity later, Soki returned, and impossibly, he seemed even more angry than before. Glowering terribly, his eyes like molten furnaces and looking every bit the daemon, Grandfather managed to wrangle in his broiling temper; one that I believe was in my best interests never to experience. However, I was not to escape entirely unscathed, barring my onerous feelings of guilt.

_FLIP_!

"I wished we had not met under these circumstances. Here, your birthday present."

Bouncing off my freshly smarting cheek was a "smartcard": this one, a transparent pocket-sized specimen with embedded integrated circuits that can process data. Also, it bore a logo "S", with ascending and descending rungs in between that gave off the impression of a double helix, colored a cyan aqua-hue.

"Class IV Tech License with the Sirta Foundation. They do good work. Keep it safe until the time comes you can register it under your name; they cost good credits, so do not go losing it. I believe, they will give you a class on that soon enough."

Truth be told, it was a heaven sent leg up once I began to build my first device.

"Son, the next time we meet face to face, I pray _tomorrow _will be better, and that, someday, we can sit back and laugh about it all. _May you find shelter and water_."

* * *

The last Grandfather had spoken in his native tongue, a traditional goodbye, considering the harsh, nigh-inhospitable nature of Iridonia. His cryptic parting words unsettled me and became a haunting hound that followed all the way to Saturday. Adding to the list of my worries, the chronic pain in my body had not subsided, and with great difficulty, I had stocked up on over-the-counter painkillers, stashing them away in my bedroom. It was hard to say if it was phantom or a pathological in nature. What could not be denied that it was real.

My only saving grace was there had not been another incidence of memory lapse, nor that of hearing voices in my head. There was a plenty of reasons for concern. I had encountered far too many "extraordinary" happenings, since my first steps here, a normal, civilized space that should have been _different_ from my ancestral. Yet against my expectations, they were happening. Could it have something to do with the Ziggurat? Or worse, was I the focal point for all of this "madness"?

_The Burning Man_. _This Il Forte_. _The Blackouts_. _The Voice_.

It was too much, and I had no answers.

Of course, I would not speak of such things to my small circle friends. I never dreamed it would end up this way but there was no denying the circle made of myself, Ryuune Zoldark, Nagi Dai Artai, and Nina Wang had all become guilty by association. We shared many of the same classes together, the same free periods, the same electives... It was simply impossible to get away from each other, which was a good thing for the Corellian and I, as the prince's influence could not be denied.

No one had the gall to touch us, _yet_, and a chance would come surely.

Nina, true to her word and my relief, had not spoken a word of what had transpired between us to Nagi. Her whimsical lord did not give the slightest indication that he knew. That said, I was forced to grace uncomfortably close to disaster when he broached the subject of Grandfather's demonstrative duel with Sergeant RL-5. Lady Luck was on my side, and I managed to wrangle not only himself, but Ryuune, into retelling the spar, with great bravado and panache. Evidently, they were both quite enamored with the colonel.

As for why you would find all four of us gathered in a largely abandoned office, the building located somewhere in the Aurum Quarter, on a weekend... Well, two of them decided to tag along because I could not convince them otherwise that it would be a big fat waste of time. The reason we are here was because the Student Council demanded a complete audit of the Student Disciplinary Committee, my rather ponderous new responsibility, by Sunday morning.

It sounded like a lot, and I would not know where to start, so I asked if I would be able to meet with Illyasviel von Einzbern and her staff... Imagine my astonishment when I learned they had all up and _transferred_ away. The intriguing drama soon ballooned out of proportion, with a blistering migraine and a touch of paranoid guilt, when I came across a dataslate waiting for me in the tyrant's chair.

A letter of resignation with a list of digital signatures, more than I care to count, and a short word from the old blood noble herself: _Cepi corpus_. _Ego te damnatio ad oblivione_, _Arbiter_. It was High Gothic simply for, "I have the body. I damn you to oblivion, Judge."

At that moment, all I could do was sigh heavily and hit the delete key. What I did not expect myself to do, on reflex, an empathic violent impulse triggered from me sitting to me standing: a chair clattered, an arm shot out, a grey blur accelerated with a whoosh, and three bodies barely clearing out the way in time. An ugly shatter followed suit, as the poor dataslate splattered against the old wooden door, before thudding onto the tiled floor lifeless.

Silence reigned supreme, but my expression, unknown to myself, was said to be something so terrible that no one dared to question my actions, at least so I was told much later. Of course, ever duplicitous Nag broke the deathly pause with a laugh, even as Nina still stood bent over rigid to shield him possibly with her own body, and moved straight on to a question that I would answer.

"So, Friend Chrono, what is to become of the Student Disciplinary Committee?"

"We are disbanding," I told him, flatly.

"Wait...WHAT!" Ryuune spluttered, wide-eyed. "Have you gone loony, Harlaown? I just finally got myself ready to accept this stupid job, and now, you're going to quit? What happened to that talk we had a while ago?"

"All sacrifices considered, 'tis not a task that can be done humanly with just **two **people. And I-"

"Well, I cannot supply you an army, but..."

"Forget it, Nagi," I cut him off. "If I walk into that council meeting tomorrow-"

The fool ripostes nimbly, undaunted in the slightest by my dismissal, "**Results **I can provide, Friend."

"..._results_, you say..."

"I cannot grant you an army, but what this humble puck can offer you, Lord Oberon, is a protector with great potential and all the eyes and ears you can ever hope to need."

A Protector? Eyes and ears?

"_Oi_, Nagi, you're not seriously asking Nina to join us, are you?" Ryuune gave him a hard, flinty stare. Suffice to say, she was not keen on the idea, not because of any lacking qualities on behalf of our young Maid of Honor, but of what was to happen to the girl. "There's no way you can protect us all once we get serious. Remember? You're the frakkin' _Green Collar_. Favors. Creds. Power. Mr. Middleman never gets his own hands dirty."

"Exactly," beamed the albino boy, "that is why I am offering my dear Nina's services to you, at an astonishing _disaccount_. The Fool will still buy and sell as always, but it does not mean I do not have _preferred_ clients, yes?"

Leave it to Nagi Dai Artai to find the logistical means to make the impossible possible and deepen my debts to him even more. The hard resolve of transparisteel liquefied, as I propped back up the dark executive chair and flopped myself back into it, a debased sulking warlord, shaken.

Next, and behold did Nina speak, "Honorable Chrono Harlaown, by your grace, this one would spake thusly: thou should not shirk thy duty. _She_ has heard of the price paid so that thou would reside now in this office. Blood. Sweat. Tears. Time. None of these should have been spilled had thy no interest to be a fair steward."

Increasingly I began to feel like a spoiled brat, and the subtle accusation was true. The right thing, the Le Fay thing to do at this point would to brush off the grim reality and follow through with what I meant to do in the first place: accept it all.

"Suppose I accept your assistance, you of Artai. Just what am I to do next?"

The answer came in a near choreographed staccato.

"A name."

"Ideals."

Great.

"What if I said I am daft with names and ideals?"

Now, Ryuune Zoldark of all people joined the divine comedy, with a wide toothy smile.

"_Judgment_. We stand for Justice, Compassion, and _Espirt de Corps_. We can't fight everyone's battles for 'em, but we'll try to win the ones that matter, right?"

Sigh.

"I cannot dissuade you all, can I?"

The answer was unanimous, and so the Student Disciplinary Committee was reborn: _Judgment_, a bunch of bungling self-styled **Idiots **_of Justice_.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.24 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. As far as this episode goes, mostly wrapping up a few old threads / housekeeping plus a taste of reality, and I dare say is the AXE effect taking hold again? Don't sweat you all; next chappie is pretty much eighty-percent done as of this posting. That should be up by mid-March, real life willing, while I crack away at 1.26. I almost feel bad this little bit childhood is about to end. Seriously, we're almost done here, and the next couple of cycles are gonna fly by fast.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	26. Entry 1 25: Pursuing Myself

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.25:

Pursing My True Self

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

However, before we were to part our separate ways, Nagi understandably being most urgent for he much business to attend to, an unexpected subject came up no less from our impeccable Nina Wang:

"By and by, this one would wish to know, when is the first formal occasion?"

"Psshh, who cares?" Ryuune rolled her eyes, "we'll deal with it, when we get there, right?"

I was of the same school of thought as my Corellian colleague, but trust our mutual prince from the north to smell intrigue right on the get go. His composed expression abruptly burst into a grin from ear to ear, "But 'tis a dance, dear Dame Zoldark! A dance!"

"Well, it's not a real ball and gown affair," I added fuel to the fire, unwittingly and unhelpfully, "but there is an event end of this month..."

"And should thou be asked to participate, who shall be thy escort, young lord?"

The curtain of an awkward silence made to fall, as I considered for a moment my options. I could sneak a glance at my partner in crime for her consent, but considering present company that alone might be enough to blow the situation out of proportion into mortifying extremes. Another possibility was to admit that "truthfully" I was still undecided, which was mostly true. Alas, such hopeful machinations were all swept aside when someone else involved made the decision for me. How characteristically reckless of her, too.

"Th-That'd be me, of course!"

Naturally, Nagi smiled brightly, a pleased bloodhound, and a for a moment, I entertained the macabre idea of his whole face turn inside out to only be replaced with _that_ smile, no eyes, just rows of gleaming pearly white teeth. Nina's timely intervention, though, saved from dwelling upon the nightmarish image too long, for we were treated to a pair of glowing red "eyes", courtesy of her harsh gas mask. Sealing with a pressurized hiss that elicted an uncomfortable chill up my spine, I sensed a change in her "air", evident in her body language that suddenly tensed, coiling like a serpent ready to strike, in contrast to her usual polite deference.

"Have you ever danced before, _hssss_?" crackled her new digitized voice, attuned to a disconcerting clinical frequency. Between that and the intensity of her gaze, the result gave the clean impression as if she were an auditor regarding the worth of breeding stock at a wholesale flea market. It was _most _unpleasant.

"N-No," Ryuune Zoldark, nevertheless, was admirably unshaken. She somehow had the gall even to look sheepish!

"Do you know, _hsss,_ the precepts of what constitutes, _hsss_, a lady?" Nina, unruffled, went on just the same.

I did not quite understand the reasons for it yet, but every time she put on the "mask", this sharp change in character always happened, as if a submerged personality layer suddenly came online like a droid.

"....no."

By the way, is it just me, or am I seeing the Maid's questions actually take metaphorical shape in the air akin to giant sign posts, shaped as arrows?!

"I'm holding two pictures. _Hsss_. Which **dress **is fashionable for the season?"

"Uhh, that one?"

They are multiplying...

"What kind of housework are you familiar with?"

"Well, any dumbass by now knows how to scrub and brush, right?"

I try rubbing my eyes. Nope, they are not going away.

"Do you know how to polish silver, gold, glass, and leather?"

"No...."

That is a whole lot of "arrows".

"What, _hsss_, is the best way to iron silk?"

"Can I take a pass on this?"

Maybe I should take cover?

"How would you prepare morning tea?"

"Uhhh, pass."

And why does Nagi look like he is dying from asphyxiation?

"How would you prepare, _hsss_, a full course dinner at Harvest Festival?"

"Pass..."

Is he trying not to laugh?

"Can you even cook?"

Well, laugh, dammit! Maybe that will dispel these hallucinations I am seeing!

"Does microwave and instanta-chow count?"

Like the timer on a toaster, I swore I heard an audible ping as a light bulb appeared and went off above Nina's head. The metaphorical stage lights faded, putting myself and the smiling puck into cool darkness, while the two girls nabbed the spotlight. Above, the "arrows" glittered like stars.

"My lords, by observation and inquiry of nine, _hsss_, key factors, I, Nina Wang, Maid of Honor to His Lordship Nagi Dai Artai, _hsss_, have come to the conclusion, _hsss_: this girl is a female pig, _Sus scrofa scrofa _- **nay **- a female warthog, _Phacochoerus amerius_!"

At the word of such a fatal declaration, the first barrage fell, piercing with the laughable chime of golden rings aflutter?!

"GAH?!"

"There's no need, _hsss_, to look for the possibility_, hsss_, that you misheard me, Ryuune Zoldark. I'm referring to you, _hsss_, you _common _**sow**."

The second wave!

"GUWAH...!"

"**Indeed**. A _**huge **_sow that's as tall as the Ziggurat that looms over us day and night."

The titanic final blow reduced the Corellian hellcat to a smoking porcupine of humanity, twitching on occasion on the floor as a sign of life; her juvenile vanity defeated utterly so. Truly, the feminine mind is a magnificently cruel creature when it comes to psychological warfare.

"As such, it is in my opinion that she, _hsss_, is not suitable to be Young Master Harlaown's escort to _**any **_function, _hsss_, until further notice."

Now that declaration broke the spell of drama and brought me back to my senses to utter a stupiefied:

"Until further notice?"

"Yes, I intend to educate her," Nina informed us off-hand, already bending down to "retrieve" her inanely mumbling charge. "Though I still have much to learn, _hsss_, I have the qualifications of a journeywoman. At the very least, _hsss_, I can turn her into a proper apprentice,_ hsss_, for as she is, only the most magnanimous of Meisters would ever, _hsss_, take her in."

Funny, she should say that, and maybe - probably it was just my imagination, but did her artificially attuned voice _soften_ just for a moment? Could Nina Wang, the impeccable Maid of Honor, be speaking from personal experience? My thoughts, however, were scattered to the four winds and put on hold for a later date, for it was right then that Nagi Dai Artai choose to erupt in bowel loosening, raucous laughter. Naturally, I was the closest person to him, so he latched on to me for support.

"Come, _warthog_, move your hide, _hsss_, and blow your nose. Our lessons begin post-haste! Now, are you registered for home..."

I did not even get to hear the rest. The girls had quit the scene, steathily (read: Nina just dragged away Ryuune who was still lost in a teary daze of defeat), while I was distracted, leaving me very much alone with him.

"My, bwha-haahaha! My, is it not, tee hee hee, _fun_?" Nagi egged at me, captivated by some private joke only he seemed to know.

"Wh-What the Devil?" I responded haplessly ignorant. My chief concern at the time was wrestling him into some semblance of posture for the albino boy threatened to take me down onto the floor with him in not-so-wondrous hilarity.

"My adorable Nina, pffffttt! - di-did not even remark on a-a-a-arrange-ments, tee hee hee, for _her _to accompany yourself! N-_Nau~ghty_, ah-hahahaha!"

I could only favor him with a stupid expression because I did not have a clue as to what he was talking about.

"Do not fear, _kuh_! There is no, eh-hee hee hee, lost love on my part, though I am of superb confidence that, _hah_, your adventures to come will become much more _**amusing**_, from now onwards, _fu fu fu fu_."

That said, sometimes...I wish I was not so blissfully thickheaded.

* * *

A month soon passed, and true to Nagi Dai Artai's prophecy, things had become interesting, indeed. There are many things I would like to report, such as Nina sticking true to her word and --- well, she "accompanied" me, chaining Ryuune behind to monitor the event...now, _that_ was an experience I shan't forget, ever. I am personally still in shock, but I digress. For the sake of expedience, I will only touch upon the most noteworthy events. For starters, I appear to actually have a domestic life now, much to my regret, and worse yet, the routine appears to have become the norm with disturbing swiftness.

Oh, there had been a terrible quarrel the first day, but after Nina dispatched Ryuune with ease, in one fluid takedown. I only saw the aftermath of it mind you, but the Maid's face spoke everything for her: no emotion, no hesitation, just pure certainty of purpose; her disciple did not protest anymore. When I inquired of the latter why she was agreeing to go along with the eccentricities of the former, she only mumbled:

"She shut me down. The one thing I had pride in for sure. There was no possibility at all. Zero. zero. ZERO. **Zero**. _Aaaaaaaaaaa_! _Phwoar_, that pisses me off! I gotta figure her out. How can she...!"

So it became apparent that Miss Cool and Spicy was only going along to "get stronger", per say. It was long after I turned my line of inquiry towards the Maid of Honor herself, who had assumed swiftly the stewardship of my kitchen. ...I had to admit she looked fantastically at home in an apron, though I am pretty certain I did not own anything so white and frilly. There even appeared to be a touch of lace here and there. Strangely, I felt the room temperature increase uncomfortably so every time I locked gazes with the ever serious girl, and in fact, I forced myself to go check the thermostat for irregularities when it was both her and Ryuune in the same outfit.

I swore things got downright sweltering hot. Could it be a sign of some manner of paranormal activity? But I digress, more importantly, I ask Nina of she had any prior martial experience to which she replied in all seriousness, while frying up green eggs and ham:

"In truth, _She_ is at least proficient of a rank higher than the belt _She_ wears. This one was a passable second-degree black belt in _Hapkido_: quick to learn that '_goblins_' do not play nice."

What was with me and meeting women, who could dismantle me, faster than I could say a greeting? Still, I was gratified to experience first hand that Nina Wang was a fabulous gourmet, easily surpassing myself. She professed she wished to cook more often, but as it was an expensive indulgence, she rationed out her ventures to only three times a week, which was deplorable, according to her. It would be a grave embarrassment if her still "juvenile" skills were to fall into disuse, not to mention it was her duty to turn "_That Warthog_" into a right and proper "_apprentice_".

Suffice to say, it appeared evidently so that I was coming around to see the charming quality of Nina Wang, ever so bound and determined. Nagi Dai Artai, her master, likely has a much more illuminated perspective of her, but I was content enough to take things one step at time. Though I admit I am a little taken aback by Nina's own forthright attempts to learn my habits and quirks inside out, which has lead to many a compromising circumstance and will likely produce many more instances.

Who knew _that_ little devil was a creature of habit himself? In comparison, I could be called positively lackadaisical, much to the aquamarine-haired girl's _mild _concern ("_She_ fears for thy subjects, Young Lord").

Still, even with all these "pleasant" developments, I would be a fool to neglect business altogether. The conspiracy was still about, tying together both the security situation and my own paranoid worries over the "unexplainable". For the good, the AZOTH "bared fruit" at last, on a curious Sunday morning, well before dawn.

I awoke in a feverish sweat, the agony unspeakable as always, without a crutch to lean on. Truth be told, sleep was a treasure rare to come by, but today was different. The intensity was not the same. Usually, it would be through supreme effort that I would move at all to start my morning routine, yet I could now move as if I had downed my first "fix" of the day. I was functional, though a trained eye that had been studying me prior ought to notice the weakness of my gait.

Hanging from the cord of my dog tags was an addition that had not been there the night before. The object gave off an urgent heat as if demanding my attention and did not abate until I had grasped it: a small, thin rod as you might expect to be on a wind chime, made of pure white stone (perhaps, marble). At a glance, the rod seemed unremarkable, but upon touch, a new set of revelations became self-evident. It was warm to the touch and the texture, contrary to the appearance of stone, was a match for human skin; a pulse could even be felt, disturbingly enough, as the "flesh" responded true to the genuine article.

Alas, I was made of sterner stuff, having grown up in a house where a misstep potentially could be fatal. A normal person would have been wise to not have any part in it all, for at the least they would have been spared the cost of such power. The examination of the AZOTH's exterior revealed nothing of note, though I would come to discover with the passage of time that its shape would change.

Of course, I was not going to stop there for my curiosity sought to understand even more of the mystery at hand, so I did the stupidest thing possible, when it comes to magical artefacts: I injected a dose of _mana_ into it. Do not do try this for yourself, for such docile artefacts have a tendency to remind us how powerful they are truly when everything goes ploin-shaped.

I was fortune enough not to taste disaster, though my eyes were still blinking out the spots of glare from the sudden brightness, as if a new sun had been born. The AZOTH had transformed: gone was the white stone finish, and its place I held tangible "space" that thrummed with vibrancy, as ancient script, numbers and symbols, and a whole slew of shapes revolved in a glowing prismatic nexus. Arranged a double helix married to an atom, with the genes serving as the nucleus, curiosity brought it closer to my eye, and the wonder of the mystery grew.

Synesthesia: I could "see" the vibrations of sound, "hear" the loud colors, "touch" the graininess of letters, and "taste" the prickly laugh of the sun on my face. Common sense raised the alarm in a flash, but I was already enthralled in both pleasure and intrigue. The construct I beheld, was it not like "The Record" that resided in my home? Here were memories without a doubt but in a form that escaped any method I knew of quantifying it. From the output I received...I could recall **anything** - _everything_ in perfect clarity, even the most mundane of details long since forgotten came back to me.

Impossible: memories are finite and fickle. Constructs designed to store "memories" in turn are also limited for only what is recorded can be recalled. Yet, with the AZOTH, I could possibly even uncover the truth hidden in veils of black-!

At that critical moment, the flow of _mana_ ceased, banishing the Mystic Code back to its docile state. I had not even realized my own condition: sweat pouring down my flushed face, breaths coming in sharp gasps, and my whole body shivering, electric and numb all at once, dreadfully cold. A jittery hand, sickly pale, reached up and came away splattered with blood; there were not hot tears in my eyes but slick crimson.

Now and forever, it was certain that what I carried in the palm of my hand was dangerous, inherently, as it was powerful. To delve into and understand its secrets would come at a price, running the gamut from _addiction _to death. Yes, even now, I still recall the ecstasy of "sensation", a reality of "madness" more perfect than what I can perceive in my insignificant coil of existence.

Thankfully, by some superhuman token of will, I managed to pull away from deadly temptation and drag myself into the shower. I sat there, huddled in a ball under hot running water well into the wee hours, ignorant, frightened, and still longing for answers. A new pain had birthed itself in my mind to replace the decreased intensity of the bitter biting agony I experienced day in and day out: _lust_. Not for carnal pleasures of the body mind you but knowledge; anything and everything there was to know... How do I use this power? When were the memories installed? What could I achieve? Where had the Mystic Code originated from, by what means, what medium...

I buried it deep but even still the vivid memory haunts me at the farthest reaches of consciousness, a mirage beckoning to power untold. So ends my positive report that I can confirm the power of the Code exists, and begins another horrid trip into the unknown. You already should be aware as to the dual nature of Atlas - The Giant's Pit. At first glance, the institution is a school built near an important relic of lost ages, but scraping away the veneer of false epithelia revealed something far more sinister and purposeful.

I believe this place to be a grand social experiment, a laboratory where nearly all factors involved can be controlled, so as to condition and shape the young, impressionable minds and bodies here. I can vouch for a fact that I have been transformed irreversibly. What I cannot understand is why the adults, my direct superiors and caretakers, would allow such an abominable thing to transpire right before them. Did they approve of the artificial macrocosm they had created that could be likened to a top-down cross section of modern society itself?

Yes, I acknowledge and understand fully that injustice and inequity were facts of life. If not for these realities, the Bureau itself would not exist, an institution designed to restore order in a system that inherently becomes more chaotic. Nevertheless, I loathe to think that my own organization is infected with the same neurosis of conscience.

The security situation had worsened since I took power. None of it was being reported to the military police, of course. Elements in the putrid underbelly of Atlas had become more aggressive in the new power vacuum, and they were not long from waging a secret war of their own for dominance. Thanks to Nagi Dai Artai, we had a perfect forecast of their movements and could even plant remote surveillance at will, much like we do now for official school events above ground.

Delegates of the Student Council had been badly incensed at the near voyeuristic evidence I had brought forth as testimony of our competence, and I do not believe they will forget the humiliation anytime soon either.

We, ourselves, had yet to make any move to curb the blistering sores for we were tied with some serious issues of accountability, namely there was equipment belonging to the Student Disciplinary Committee _missing_. Gear had sprouted arms and legs, was running around out there where it should not be, and it was our responsibility to get it back because if anything happened, we would be held accountable for it. As such we were not in any condition to begin our crackdown, not to mention I was concerned about our paltry numbers.

Best-case scenario: could three people convince two-thousand odd "delinquents", the nastiest of the hardcore, to stop acts of extortion, drugs, blackmail, and yes, "gun running"? Oh, we are not talking about blasters, bombs, and heavy weapons when I mean _gun running_ because that level generally applies to ordinary peoples. In the case of the _magi_, we are a more sophisticated bunch of snobs: high value raw and finished components, Tech Licenses, devices of all makes completed or otherwise and / or their associated armaments, "spell" schematics, access rights to spells, proprietary algorithms, etc.

I had no delusions that we could stop them, but at the at least, we would make life miserable for them, for they had already fired the first shots across our bow. By now, I am used to "mind games" and have resigned myself to be friendless, outside my small circle of close associates. What I did not expect was to be the first casualty of the war: one set of utility uniforms gone. It happened in one of my electives, an entry-level class, which I did not share with anyone else, for essentially earning licenses with various repulsorlift craft that would open to more advanced course work. Today we were working on tanks, namely the TX-130 _Saber_-class fighter tank, a workhorse of the GAR.

Situation: vehicle down, co-pilot / navigator is KIA, pilot (that's me) unknown, and you're the lucky one that got ejected out from the gunner's seat, miraculously, in one piece. Assess the situation and act accordingly. Simply put, I was the corpse, clad in a mock-up Phase II clone trooper armor, and splashed over in fake blood plus some artistic touches of make-up to show "battle trauma". Suffice to say, I died a lot, either from cadets improperly gauging the situation or failure to provide adequate first aid. The snide jokes that followed were not a hallucination for I saw genuine malice in those grins, wishing for my demise.

I knew better than to let the ill-will get to me, but I was not about to take any chances by hanging around any longer than I must. Leaving the showers expediently, I made to dress when I discovered the surprise waiting for me in my locker. They even left a note, too; how _cute_. At least they left my boots and coat alone, not to mention I had my critical valuables on me, leaving none for them to "pick up". Sitting at the foot of the locker was my uniform, "downsized", and mixed into a pail of partially dried cement and kerosene. Everyone present saw it or heard about it second hand, of course. Most had a good laugh and away they went with their sycophant cohorts; strength by mob rule. Others, the weak, pretended to look the other way and that was the end of it. The Instructors had already gone home.

There was nothing better to do but to climb back into the soiled "corpse" and haul the pail over to the nearby incinerator. Had this sort of intimidation been normal for Ryuune Zoldark before our paths crossed? I suppose, the experience brought me a little closer to her, for right now... I felt no emotion, save for a deepening sense of isolation. Granted, I was not alone anymore that I could be certain of, and Miss Cool and Spicy would raise hell the moment I walked in the door looking like so. I could see the flames of carnage, now...

So who should I...

_Vmmm-Vmmm_!

Oh lucky, I kept my PDA on me. Wait, an incoming call from Nina?!

I heaved a self-suffering sigh, most of it real and the tiny fraction of it frustration, for such a convenient event could only be divine irony. Nevertheless, I accepted it. We exchanged contact information for good reasons, and something curious must have developed, if she felt compelled to call me.

"Good evening, Nina Wang."

"And to thee, young lord," she replied in lockstep. There was a bark of noise for a moment, sounding like porcelain or some such had just crashed spectacularly onto floor, accompanied by a bark of laughter and a howling feminine shriek. Looks like someone was having a ball in my kitchen, then again, my living quarters appeared to transform spontaneously in a "fun" madhouse every time I had guests over. Can you imagine the mayhem the "right" house guest can achieve on his or her own? Madness. _Absolutely_. "Hnn, are thou arriving, now?"

"Uhh, actually, I am still at class," I admitted, with a heavy self-suffering sigh. It might have been overkill as far as signals went, but as we had never arranged any system prior, the clumsy way was the only option.

"Her ears art yours."

As expected of the Maid of Honor, but considering her master, I should not be surprised much. Well, here goes nothing.

"Nina, _listen_, I need a favor..."

The wind chill was picking up, heavy clouds on the horizon; I would not be surprised if there would be snow tonight. Half an hour later, I looked up to see bobbing red dots approaching through the gloomy haze of sunset. Sure enough, it was Nina, trucking along at a jog, with a duffel bag fastened securely crosswise to her body so as to not hinder her gait. She would have liked, I imagine, to arrive early with time to spare, but arriving right on time had its merits, too. Any friendly greeting I had, though, was put on hold by a sharp spike of pain in my chest, a signal that it was time for my "fix" yet again.

Nina stood by impassively, her expression unknown thanks to the concealing nature of her gas mask, and her childhood training restrained her from dropping the duffel at my feet in any sign of displeasure. Simply, she spoke, the frequency set to deceptive neutrality.

"Young lord, _hsss_, may I speak frankly?"

"Please, do," I owed her at least the right to an interrogation.

"_Hsss_, you realize **that**, _hsss_,is an unbecoming habit."

"Hence, why I picked flavored gummies. People ask less questions when a cadet looks to be just snacking, and even then, considering my daily regimen, a little pain relief is warranted, especially when **the **Sergeant Major comes around to knock me about."

"I believe, _hsss_, he favors you."

"Methinks that is no doubt an unreasonably bizarre way of demonstrating one's affection."

"Men _and_ palmtop hellcats, young lord."

"Er..." Palmtop hellcats, what?

"How much have you had today?"

"Huh?"

"The gummies."

"I-I am --- within _tolerable _limits."

"_Hsss_, how much."

"Twenty-four gummibears?"

"The _total _**dosage**," it was not a clarification but a demand.

"Two-thousand four-hundred milligrams," I sweated with a sheepish grin.

A heavy moment passed; the Maid of Honor considered my revelation in a thoughtful, while regarding me with the inane scrutiny an entomologist would favor a snapping hellgrammite. Of course, I did not have a clue as to what she was thinking, but to my surprise, she joined me in the shadow of the building, parking herself beside me on the rickety bench.

"_Hsss_, I understand you have your reasons," Nina began, her comlink outputting a new voice. This one seemed to have been attuned to nurture a feeling of solidarity. "**But **you should be aware of the, _hsss_, complications that could result. Likely, you will kill yourself, _hsss_, either by overdose or a wound, _hsss_, that won't stop bleeding. May I suggest..."

What a strange girl! Anyone else with common "common sense" would have told me to stop taking the pain killers, but here she was willing to go along with the madness all the same, even while lecturing me on the risks. Indeed, even her lord, Nagi Dai Artai, was the same: he did not lecture me often on the risks but was happy always to provide a means to an end. Was this a facet of the character of "The Devil"?

"_Hsss_, adding reserves of bacta to your private stocks. It would be wise to have bactade and-or bacta salves on your person at all times. Are you planning to pursue a Medical License?"

Wh-what? How did she-

"Y-Yes, at least up to Class-IVor Class-V, maybe Class-VI, before I am commissioned."

"Engineering?"

"Of course, only a wishful idiot trusts his life completely to the armorer and the whims of supply and demand; no offense to the grunts. When you are autonomous and self-sufficient, there is no crisis that cannot be overcome. Aye, I would fight a one-man crusade all by myself, if it came to that cruel reality. Water: I could condense feasibly. Transportation: what I can not pilot, appropriate, repair, errata --- well, I will just have to build it then, won't I? Food, though, will be an issue should it prove impossible to survive off the land, as I do not fancy the concept particularly of conjuring Brahmin steak from _mana_, much less an edible one."

"Self-sufficiency. Autonomy. Beautiful words, _hsss_, and the kindest of _lies_, as expected of _**The Judgment**_."

As you know, I do not anger easily, but a trend I noted over the cycles that one of the quickest ways to raise my wrath was to accuse me of being mad for power.

"I do not gain power for the sake of power," turn away I did from her gaze, my voice slicing the breath of space in deathly cold steel.

"That is what they all say, _hsss_, at first," ever stern Nina Wang, though, was not ruffled in the slightest. I dare say she seemed to be accustomed to such scathing treatment. "Will you be a hero, or a villain?"

"Are you on the same bandwagon as Nagi?! Lunacy. I am not-"

"Why contradict yourself, now? Have your actions and words not spoken so gloriously of your aspiration? No matter. There is no escape. Inevitably, some day, you will speak the truth that lies _here_."

"No escape? What do you know about me? We only just met!"

"Would you like to know how old I am?"

"Huh?" the girl's line of thought surprised me with its abruptness. Where was she going with this?

"As _old _as your palmtop hellcat. _Hsss_, nay. Mayhap older," Nina mused vaguely.

"What, mine? Wait, why-?"

"At least, someone thinks someone belongs to someone."

Exasperated, I gave a snort and made myself cross, hoping it would end the meandering conversation altogether. The Maid of Honor, though, was a _devil_, and she would not be deterred so easily. There was one more underhanded card to be played, yet.

"_Coy_, is that a trait of a Le Fay, _hss_s, or does it hail from the audacious blood of _The Hero_, as well?"

Power. Heroes. Villains. Right and Wrong. It always comes back to _That Man_, does it not?

"You hate him do you, your patriarch?"

* * *

_Click_.

I still do not understand the exact the mechanism behind these occult phenomenon, but sure enough, Nina had triggered one. Like a lock opening, the transition was seamless as "my side" slipped into a region of the unknown. Perhaps, it only existed in my mind, a delusion daydream that I was privy to: colors inverted, bleeding, draining into black, an infinite void, save for me, bleached white in full, suspended in limbo. There was no sound aside from the perfect meter of clockwork ticking by the microns.

Tick. Tock.

It went on for a long, long time. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Cycles. Decades. Centuries. Millennia. _Aeons_. Madness: I screamed, muscles and chords bulging to the extremes of strain, but there was nothing. I could breathe, yet there was no matter to conduct my cries. All reason told me that I should be dead.

_Hey, hey_, _is that anyway to talk inside someone's stomach? Even a spiralless hog-face wouldn't eat a deadbeat yam of a shavit, like you-__**you**__, at __**World's End**__._ _But, it's fun to see __**Love **__turn to __**Hate**__. C'mon, why don't ya give it a try?_ _The face of the man you can't even remember_.

"...no. NO. Of course, I don't-"

_Liar_.

"...wh-why? It's. Th-that, he...he had to-"

_Tsk, tsk, you're not very honest, are you?_

The emptiness shuddered with each word spoken and I with it, as if I were in the shadow of a trembling volcano of impossible magnitude, and there: the voice, too. So...

_But, guess that's just expected of __**you**__: the Will to affirm, to accept, to receive_..._everything._

Familiar.

_Eh? Don't remember me, either? Well, that's fine. I __**am **__still tryin' to find my own voice, see. __It wasn't until a little while ago that the synch started to_...

Whose voice is this?

_Still, ever wonder where your less than nice feelin's for __**That Man **__comes from? Your little sparks of heroics? Talkin' tough? Walkin' tough? That ain't natural, man, 'cos we both know you like him, even after everythin'. That's just like you, too, and you'd never do those kind of crazy things. Bein' straight with ya, these things you did the past coupla months? That ain't really you-__**you**__; that much we oughta say. _

Who is talking to me?

_You just accepted right on the fly it was-__**is **__you, you-__**you**__. That's why it didn't seem funny when it happened. That's why it __**still **__isn't funny. It's a nice part about been able only to accept, right? Nothin' ever seems wrong, just like a lie repeated enough times becomes part o' the truth._

I'm...I-I...drowning!?

_Tsk, looks like that's the limit for today. Don't worry, we got time to settle things right, you-__**you**__. All the time in the world_; _**ours**_.

* * *

_**Bleagh**_-_bluhk_!

I was vomiting, right onto the white blanketed sidewalk.

"That's the way, _hsss_!" a harsh, crackling voice called out to me.

The disgusting yet no doubt urgent bodily act erased any higher thoughts I might have had, being so suddenly ripped from the perspective of madness back to the semblance of normalcy. Snow had begun to fall in the short intervening time, so I noticed out of the corner of my eye.

"Let it out. _Hsss_, all of it!"

I am not sure if rubbing one's lower back is meant to help the process along, but the nauseous steam rising from the fresh reeking pile seemed to be doing wonders to encourage me. Half of me wanted to gag while the other half was happy to deposit more of my shame. The evidence was two-fold for I imagined I would not forget the grimy, bitter metallic aftertaste any time...

"Get up."

Oh, you must be...

"Fine; got you."

I was seeing double. Lights blared brightly, and every noise seemed to hammer at my ears into a dizzying plethora of loudness and softness; worse it was flaring out into a headache. Motion and picture seemed to have a kind of surreal underwater feel to it. Oh Mysteries, methinks, I am starting to feel sick, _again_-!

"Into the _head_ damn you!"

Oh, thank you, whoever you are for pointing me face first into the Porcelain God.

* * *

Embarrassingly, it took another fifteen minutes of heaving and spluttering, before I came staggering out of the stall. Thankfully, some seemed to take notice of my present extreme sensitivity to sensory input at the moment and had dimmed all the lights, save for one right in my path. The light lead to a wash basin with a mirror. A guiding presence of swaying aglow red circles made sure I made it there in one piece, even as the venomously burning weight hanging upon my throat like a iron collar threatened to pull me down.

"I don't know whether to dub you foolish, _hsss_, or _junshin_, as the Zipang say," something roughly feminine barked in a crackle near my ear. "_Hsss_, you're a mess."

It was difficult to say what made me wince, the voice or my face: bloodshot eyes, streaked red, visible tear lines staining ghoulishly pale cheeks and a froth mouth and nose. I looked worse than an addict, beaten to a pulp for his troubles, just recently escaped from a deathstick den. The sound of running water from the opened tap, drumming like a thunderous waterfall, drowned out any gratitude I might have had for I was soon forcibly run underneath it.

A shiver of goosebumps seemed to break out like hives wherever the water touched, boiling to my out of control flesh, though no doubt only cold in reality. Adult-like protest and childish mewling did nothing to assuage the iron vice that held me in place. All I could do was accept my miserable fate for there was not an ounce of fight in me. Indeed, I acknowledged that it was a necessary cleansing, and only then, was I declared absolved, the running waters chained, and I, to look upon myself.

They say, "there is nothing good or bad; only thinking makes it so." I looked like a ghoul, half-dead, so unsightly a pallor that **I **in the reflection --- _laughed_, a raucous cacophony that splintered and snapped.

"You endanger yourself, _hsss_," Nina's glow-in-the-dark-eyes pulsed red, looming over my shoulder like a devil, "in the jaws of **doom **in being indebted to others."

Oh, the folly of me!

"How long to clean the mess outside, by your reckoning?" I answered her drolly. She, ignorant of what transpired in the pane of still water, a delusion only I saw, felt; the hairline fracture in the mask of Chrono Harlaown, invisible to the naked eye.

What a fool.

"You **will** shower and change, _hsss_, while I attend to that matter."

What a moron.

"I owe you. Promise, I will have a delightful present prepared for you at the holiday."

What an idiot.

"And I think, _hsss_, the cuckoo has flown from the bird's nest. _Trust_: in the end, you will only be betrayed - and left behind to suffer ever more."

Cretin.

"Well, if I am to be the '_Hero_' that so many appear to wish for, then is there not the same _hope _that in suffering - something would be gained?"

Imbecile.

"That, _hsss_, is the way to hell."

Simpleton.

"...Nina, can I lean on you just a little longer?"

Halfwit.

"Why? Is that what you harbor so preciou_ssss_, _hhhhhkkkk_, you will continue to forge ahead, knowing you will bleed with every heartbeat?"

Was there no end to my tongue and cheek? When did **this **become me?

"Because you will not pity me. And as for what I --- guard... Methinks, only madmen cling to that which causes them so much grief, if it cannot save anyone."

No. That is the wrong question. The true question to be asked is...

"As you wish, _hsss_, your lordship."

**Who in the hell am I really**?

* * *

_The cycles like great black oxen tread the burning wasteland,_

_And Dread the herdsman goads them on behind,_

_And I am crushed by their passing feet._

* * *

First note: my apologies, there is quite a bit of a gap between this entry and the last. There was just nothing particularly "outstanding" to remark upon, at least in the daily life of an_ Idiot of Justice_, nor did I have any high expectations to live to see the next sunrise. Every day was a challenge in itself to face. Still, you would be amazed how fast time flies by when you are busy having "fun": two cycles came and went.

A few months ago, I turned eight cycles old, grown quite a bit some, celebrating a handful's worth of anniversaries along the way, and now, starting my third and final rotation here at Atlas. During, both Mother and Countess Lowran had taken their new posts with Taskforce 47, revitalizing the former greatly while the latter busied herself marshalling the company to outstanding readiness. Like the hound hot on the scent of blood, she pursued eagerly more ambitious projects for the unit, and reached out build lasting contacts with like-minded "defense contractors". The intent was to cement Taskforce 47 on the cutting edge of the newest developments in arms and technology, and overall, her scheme appeared to be paying off, judging by the number of commendations they were amassing quickly.

It would not be long, I imagined, before a string of promotions would result in a pair of Rear Admirals and a Captain, meaning the taskforce would end up expanding and becoming even more influential.

Alas, beginnings brought some endings as well. Lieutenant Lotte Lieze's rotation was finished and she was due to her new duty station aboard the indomitable dreadnought USV _Retribution_, famed for its powerful broadside firepower and abundance of ordinance. The lieutenant was already familiar with everyone, more or less, save for our newest colleague, and it did not take much convincing for her to take a shine to us.

With the Sergeant Major coming on deck in her department, there had been a shift in personnel and politics, namely he had been adamant against "softies" (I kid you not) monkeying with his cadets. Instructors he approved of, personally, would only teach them and she had not made the cut, much to her dramatic burst of tears, cursing "that old meanie". For your information, that old meanie took her down no less in a judged contest before an assembly of their peers, leaving no doubts as to who was running the show.

Still, he had not forbid cadets from meeting after class with instructors, so indulging in a little revenge, Lotte was happy to add all of us into her motivated extracurricular troop. Training with her, honestly, made it much easier to keep up with the physical demands of the course. In fact, I do not think we would have received our green belts, if it were not for the time the passionate feline woman invested in us. She would be missed dearly, though never too far, having exchanged contact information with us.

"_**Uuuuuu**_, _hic_, you four made me, finally, feel like a real teacher-_nyah_... So, you'd better take responsibility for teach's maiden heart and stay in touch, okay? Promise!"

On another fun academic note, we completed our first magical devices just last semester. It was a quest of mortifying setbacks and absurd tasks that tested each and everyone of us to the brink of insanity. So many hours spent in the labs, toiling over workbenches, reviewing and altering schematics, accidental "discharges", trial and error _ad nauseum_...you name it; it probably happened. Being a professional Device Meister in my opinion is no easy feat. I would rather not repeat the events again, though I was surprised to learn I had exchanged "numbers" with Countess Lowran at some unrecalled point.

She had called on me over the summer, offering a pep talk as one who had braved her way through amateur sorcery, and gave me as a belated birthday present in the form of a Tech License with Elkoss Combine. Replacement components needed in the wake of my repeated engineering failures was killing my cash flow, for which I had to make up by running errands, doing odd jobs, and participating in studies for the corporations. Not to mention, there was the lost time I could never get back, making the "budget" materials from Elkoss absolutely critical to my success.

I am not knocking on Hahne-Kedar, what being a major supplier to the Bureau military, out of any personal resentment, but their products are stock quality at best and not worth their value at all. Yes, being on the inside, we were already getting a significant discount, and the costs were being partially subsidized by the Bureau too, but still... Ugh, my sincerest sympathies for the grunts because the best we can provide them also entails the lowest bidder.

Now as for my fellow colleagues, to my awe they faired much better in the exercise. The young lord of House Artai and his maid, both, ranked in the top one-hundred percentile among the thousands of devices evaluated at the end of the term, earning them esteem and high marks. It was Ryuune Zoldark who surprised all of us, standing in the top ten, with her device, _Valsione_ [Prototype], also known as Proto Val (or Val-chan from her newest spontaneous fanclub; more on that another time). Her tutelage under Nina Wang had mellowed out the near-incorrigible spitfire quite a lot, to the point where she had entertained the venture with the guidance of her guardian, Doctor Shuu Shirakawa.

Yes, _that_ Shuu Shirakawa. Big shot, debonair genius at EOTI. The guy she absolutely loathed but now was willing to play ball in his dangerous court. She only had a Class-III Tech License with the institute, plus the freebie Class-I from Hahne-Kedar, but "only" was a poor euphemism for whatever technologies and expertise EOTI had given her access to was simply beyond the rest of us. The only reason Valsione had not been considered the best of the best was because Ryuune herself was the only monstrous cadet capable of using the equally monstrous device.

I, myself, was only in the three-hundredth percentile, receiving slightly above average remarks. S2U had potential but it was still immature, a concept that would rely heavily on I bringing out my own potential as a _magus_. In contrast, well, our Corellian hellcat was lauded with much praise and many honors. However, it also became clear she was an opponent that one would be ill-advised to engage at the end of the cycle, with the graduation final exam looming on the horizon. You would need an ingenious plan and a disregard for sanity, if her reputation alone was not enough to deter your recklessness.

Speaking of which, methinks I am crazy. Yes, I am being a thousand-percent frank. I am crazy, **but **I cannot be crazy because of Catch-22 logic, that is "that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind". Therefore, by the act of thinking I was crazy, I disprove the premise that my sanity is-was eroding away, in spite of all evidence I have accumulated. Evidence that on a daily basis, I was being treated to terror, injury, and delusion, which did not correlate in an increase to my compassion, but a rising trend toward psychosis.

Even now, I can see my shadow turn to a homicidal impulse to machine-gun strangers en masse in unreasonable belief, a retrospective falsification that people hated me and were conspiring to distort me. No, that was not funny; it was a horrible waste of taxpayers' credits, and the **I** in the mirror should not point and laugh because that was unbecoming juvenile behavior. If it is not clear as to the source of my mordacity, simply put, the experiment has reached a new level of sophistication.

I have yet to meet _The Burning Man_, instead I continue to become more indelibly entwined to the memories of this _Il Forte_. The more I learned of him, the more I lost of myself, a price I paid unwillingly; it is the "blackouts", see? Incidences are still sporadic, but they are lasting longer. The worst case, thus far, was an entire week where I had no recollection at all as to what had transpired. I still did not have a clear understanding, of course, as to what that fellow was about or who his people were because something without and within that sorted my own memories was feeding fragmented transcripts of the events after the fact. Worse, it was self-censoring, deliberately withholding information from me.

If I had to pick a suspect: He, _The Voice_, the I in the mirror, has long since transcended all reason into a waking nightmare that stalks me in shadow and reflection. A wink there, a laugh here, and a sneer that does not belong; I loathe in particular the tricks he plays on my shadow warping it into any shape he desires with fondness for that of a grotesque man-thing with canine features. There was still no pattern I could discern in his attacks: sometimes it would be over f-fa..._That Man_, and other times for something else entirely.

We never made much headway. It was always us barking back and forth in circles. He never made anything explicit. Glib tongued. Implications. Hints. Bottom line, though, He made it his personal mission to be my Devil's Advocate, encompassing all that makes me "I".

I must be crazy. Was it pathological? No idea, but confirmed impact.

Every day was nothing short of a miracle that people and my tightly knight circle did notice that I was crazy. Mystra bless Nina Wang. Without her, I would have been found out a long time ago, and I loathe to think how I am going to make do once we all part ways in twelve short months. I relied on her. Needed her...badly. So many catastrophes had been headed off by her intervention that I might have as well signed off my life to her, and the physical reality was closer to the truth than meets the eye.

I had become an addict, shackled to the crutch of chemicals as necessary to life as sustenance. Of course, it was nothing illegal, or else I would have been discovered in a heartbeat and promptly done away with in dishonor. Unless assisted on a daily basis by a cocktail of analgesics, now complimented with some rudimentary Boost-type spells, I would become an invalid, bound to my bed.

Why? That is the price of the **power** I held. The Mystic Code beckons always in the realm between consciousness and dream. Whispers of untold knowledge and tales of glory yet to be manifest tempted my slaved body. I shan't bore you with a brave front for I do fear its promise. Who is the sorcery and who is the sorcerer?

Grandmother had told me that I could voice to her whatever concerns I harbored. She was willing to be my companion come what may, but the fear that Morgan would take the birthright away poisoned my longing heart. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was the code. I do not know. All I could be certain of was the feeling that I had no desire to forsake the power, even if I am already its slave. I swore I would find a way to persevere and become my own master once more.

This was a test. My trial. Two cycles had passed. What was seven more to me, the fool who has already come this far? But I will not merely endure - I will prevail!

And so, I began to search for my heart,_ pursuing my true self_...

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.25 in all of its glory. Yeah, it's a big time skip, and that's pretty much going to be the trend for the rest of Act 1. There is no more actual linear storytelling per say, as we're pretty much just fastforwarding to incidences, letting that narrative play out, and then moving onto the next. Coming up next, we'll do a little more WAFFy housekeeping, and then we'll cut straight to finals, which is pretty much lots of tactical arsekicking and hotblood when the occasion calls for it, and a little "bromance". Graduate and we're off to the Outer Rim.

Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	27. Entry 1 26: Pulse

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.26:

Pulse – Close / Begin

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Februum the 14th, T.C. 4656: mood - exhausted, and the weather seemed to be a perfect reflection of my condition, advanced warning that today was without a doubt going to be one of _those_ days. Gloomy, overcast, and with a sprinkle of snow, not that it was going to stop those irritatingly happy, amorous people in the streets from doing all in their power to stand madly defiant in celebration. Today was Valentine's Day, again, and they were determined to try their hand at the beginning of a love story, odds and the weatherman be damned. Even if invariably, the majority of the romantic fools, who were rejected the cycle before, would be reduced likely to a distraught baby-faced mess, they would give it their all to the bitter end.

The expression "Love is a Battlefield" comes to mind. Forgive me, I am being cruelly jaded, for those youngsters surely deserve the benefit of the doubt. In fact, I ought to get off my backside and jump into the fray myself, for I knew the ladies of my life would painstakingly strip off every ounce of hair on my body if I did not come out onto the playing field. Yes, after a particular fiasco in my second cycle, I had forbid all out warfare in our dormitories.

No, I am not joking: the Maid of Honor and her apprentice, the Corellian hellcat, actually went at it in a full blown melee. Anything was a legal weapon from idle stationary to a vacuum cleaner. They wrecked the lobby, tore up the stairwell, broke my door down, blasted through my living room in a frenzy, and smashed through the windows landing on the sidewalk below - then, kept right on exchanging blows. The aftermath was comparable to a natural disaster, namely a tornado, and it blows my mind that the impetus was because they had an argument over who would get to present her chocolate creation first.

Frankly, it boiled down to an issue of who was alpha female, and Ning Wang won _that _round, meaning a rematch was liable to happen in a scant few hours. I have no idea how they came out in one piece from a fall of three stories, as they were not carrying their issued "police-use" devices at the time, which brought up an old suspicion of mine. Still, I was not about to ask if the serious girl did not deem it necessary to volunteer that particular bit of information.

I can only hope they would heed my warning the day before not to use their own personal devices today should it come to blows. In the meantime, the post office calls to my immediate attention. I realize it has been three cycles now since Mother and Grandmother, now joined by the dogged tenacity of Countess Leti Lowran, decided to send me a Valentine, and they still do. In turn, I oblige on White Day, too. Why? Methinks we are all of the same thought that you are never too old, or too young, to tell your loved ones you love them, when the occasion should arise.

If you feel like being spontaneous about it, like a certain someone I know from the north, _that _bugger, go ahead too, but do not be surprised when I return the sentiment with the most bitter dark chocolate I can get my paws on. I will stuff coal in your face and call it dark chocolate; 'tis no laughing matter, curse you! I am already infamous and generally reviled as some tyrant Demon God of Public Order. Why in the Mysteries should I be giving them more reasons to despise me?! I am but a negative probability challenged civil servant: Trouble and Intrigue are in love with me in a totally one-sided black comedy!

Ugh, anyways, it should be only two packages. One from family per say and the other Lieutenant Lotte Lieze because I strongly doubted distances of light years could even stop the amorous woman from playing cupid. Sure enough, she sent her best, but what I did not expect was for her affections to be addressed individually to all of the _Idiots of Justice_, and a "costume" setting for a barrier jacket.

Wonderful: it appeared I was to be her proxy as the catty messenger of Valentine. ...I am not wearing _that_ costume. Fully functional ears, retractable claws (nothing too dangerous), whiskers, and a tail: what is she thinking?! It even had a vocal modulator so I could simulate meows and purrs authentically. The day has only begun and I feel fleeing back to the safety of my blankets.

By the way, for the sake of posterity, I have turned nine cycles old (swear I still feel hung over from the innocent punch somebody spiked), not feeling too much different, little taller, little stronger, little faster, though the girls have both pulled ahead of the little prince and I in physical stature and prowess. If I were not more so of a feminist, I might have been depressed at still being so vertically challenged, and besides, my background in biology had long since helped to hammer home the basic fact that females grew faster than males. It was one of the few natural "laws" that seemed to applied to all races in the galaxy: get used to it and get over it.

Oh, and yes, my dear diary, I apologize for not writing myself unto _thee_ as of late. Every day is a struggle in mind and body. By the time I return to my desk, I find the allure of sleep impossible to escape, nor does it help matters that the AZOTH has supplanted your duty in both spirit and function. I have..._perfect_, nay, **supreme** recall. When I hold the artefact in my hands, memories come flooding back to me liken the drop of aspiration taken by a babe's first breath. Rolling thunder chasing the wind, everything is clearer, more vivid, than when I experienced the event first hand, the most subtle of details taking on new dimensions.

Of course, it was just bait laid out for me to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Mystic Code, a harmless tease to the curious mind. I was having enough problems as is trying to live a nominal existence, with the toll it had exacted: chemical dependence, and I dare say, soon an inability to stop using _magick_ at all. How much more would I suffer should I seek the answers? How was I to cope if knowledge unknown was forced onto me regardless of my wishes? I did not want to know.

A reverberating rap at the door disturbed my melancholic reverie, returning my senses to reality in the familiar confines of my "office". See, I felt it was neutral space and a good ground as any to settle an altercation should something arise, not to mention I ought to be here today anyways. When you take it upon yourself to fight a war according to the rules, then by that premise you, too, become accountable to those rules, meaning paperwork. Putting a thousand odd fat cats and their soldiers into the hospital, then into the brig from where they will end up invariably standing before the honor court, takes several mountains worth of triplicate.

Sincerely, I believe that we did good work, in spite of our lack of numbers, but the war unseen was far from over. It agitated me to know that I would be leaving such an onerous legacy to my successors. The proverb, "if a job is worth doing, then it is worth doing well", comes to mind, but it had been physically impossible for us to pacify all of the networks. Crime here, organized and free, was an old self-perpetuating disease orchestrated by the very culture of the institution, which brings us back again to my paranoid theories that Atlas was a special social laboratory.

It was expected cadets would get involved because "choice" in itself was self-evident inherently: good, bad, or fence sitting. I --- We had fought the system, suffered in setbacks, and basked in the glory of triumph, yet the only thing that had changed for certain was ourselves.

_Flick_!

"Doh!" I flinched, recoiling away as I favored my smarting brow. An asinine gesture, considering I had nowhere to fall back to short of rolling out of my office chair.

More importantly, who the in the flaming balls hit me just now?

"_Hsss_, young lord, how I fear for your health," a familiar electronic bark graced my ears, modulated to an exhausting frequency clearly meant to evoke pangs of solicitous, self-suffering pity.

Oh, well, if it isn't, Nina Wa... Wait a micron, when did she come in?

"An officer shouldn't lose his composure, _hsss_, least before his subordinate, and last, _hsss_, to his assassin."

"Uh...y-yes," I found myself losing my center even more between the truth of her words and the weight of those glaring red photoreceptors. Yes, it was a roundabout way of saying "why the frak didn't I notice her coming in?" and "Trooper, you lost your god damn mind!", but effective. Mysteries, I need to do something to correct my deficit in attention.

Details, of course, never seemed to escape the Maid of Honor's notice, especially my expression falling verily under her watch, "Tsk, tsk, _hsss_, chin up."

"S-" I corrected myself, just in the nick of time, "R-Right."

From a bizzare conversation some time ago, I learned that the girl hated it when I apologized to her or thanked her for the "littlest" of things. According to her, they were trivial as natural as breathing, the least expected out of a proper "Maid". Hence, the act of bringing such petty gestures to light infringed into the forbidden taboo of inhospitality, implying an infirmity into the maid's or footman's competence.

I believe that was just her way of reminding me the tenuous nature of our relationship: "Carry not the sweet heart for _She_. One day, thou wilt part from this one." Still, I could not help but take a liking to Nina, after all she has done for myself, Ryuune, this idiotic three-man crusade (plus one phantom member), and I would be sorry to see us part.

"Here," Nina produced a gift wrapped diamond-shaped delight to me from her satchel, "_hsss_, Valentine's gift to you."

Now, _this _was something I could thank her for, even if it turned out to be "obligation" grade chocolate. After all, it was not something she was obligated to do. The package itself was tastefully colored Venetian red, a darker shade of scarlet if you will, with a in laced golden filigree after the pattern of a quatrefoil that marked the entire surface. My only clue and likely the only one she deemed necessary for me to know that it was meant for myself was the small blue and white bow adorning the small lacy greeting card, which bore a teasing floral scent.

Suddenly, I felt quite pressured to meet her expectations in a months' time for here was a gift that displayed openly her insight into my character.

"Thank you."

She nodded, hard to read as always with her controlled posture and the masking nature of her ever-present companion. I learned second hand from Ryuune that the practical reason why the girl always carried her gas mask on her person was because of her homeworld: a harsh planet plagued constantly with severe weather, and the atmosphere was not particularly tolerable for baseline humans and most other-than-human species. Maximum exposure an unprotected individual could withstand on average was about fifteen minutes before death. Work was to be found in mining and the secondary sector, though the high gravity did not help day to day living.

"If you would excuse me, _hsss_, I must be on way."

All things said, it did explain Nina's superior constitution to us.

"Oh, wait a moment, Lieutenant Lieze's asked me to give this to you."

"Hnn? A Valentine for me?"

"Yes, she sent one to all of us to make sure we were not left out in the cold, per say," I smiled at her haplessly, "though I am the unfortunate proxy in all this."

The Maid of Honor pocketed away the handy-sized ultramarine heart, "How unconventional, as expected of her."

Come to think of it, would not now be a good chance as any to see if I could learn a thing or two about her? Even though Nina has covered for me so many times, our actual down time together has been few and far in between. Most of the things I know about her are second hand from either Nagi or Ryuune, so it could not hurt to try, right?

"Young lord, have you decided on a successor?"

"Should I be honest?" I attempted to joke.

"No, but please, _hsss_, humor me," her modulated voice took on a darker tone, letting me know I had failed superbly so.

"No."

"And?"

"There is an '_and_'?"

Suddenly, Nina's gloved hand struck like viper's whip, and I came away the recoiling loser with a fresh sting on my forehead. You would be amazed how much it hurts to have some flick the tip of their finger in swift strike, marking you clearly to be daft. When the serious girl got like this, she reminded much of a governess, and I, the luckless son of some noble.

"Ow...!" I could not help but mumble. Nina Wang had this particular chastisement technique down to an art, never using more force than was necessary to evoke the reaction she wished, thanks to her daily practice.

"Chrono Harlaown, _hsss_."

Oh Mystra, here comes the lecture.

"Yes?"

"Our time together is almost at an end."

"...I know."

"Your tardiness will only, _hsss_, undo all you've accomplished."

"Nina," I began a little more self-pitying than I would have liked, "you know as well as Nagi does, certainly, that this entire school is one big sham. A safe, monitored experiment to see how we will act in the real world. We have done a lot to cure the rampant vice that had taken root here, but it is a chronic illness that affects all peoples. Everyone wants to get ahead. Some are just more willing to do so at higher stakes for greater the bounty."

"Then, is it not necessary that there are those who will stand to put them in their rightful place?"

"Nina. I am amazed I am still sitting in this chair, after all the close scrapes we went through. I expected them to use influence to kick me out of office, and to this day, we do not know who overwrote the measure in the Student Council. Surely, we are unpopular to the absurd, a reality I do not understand, even though we provide a necessary public good."

"Even so, _hsss_, a successor is necessary. Many are poisoned with greed, indifference, or fear, but somewhere in that writhing mass, _hsss_, is an exceptional one. This I'm certain of, for such a being is before me now."

Most people would have blushed at such a glowing complement, but it only served to anger the poisonous sapling of resentment seeded deep within my heart. I looked away, unwilling to meet her gaze, and was surprised to find a leather clad hand directing me, speechless, right back to where I began. It was...gentle. Unexpectedly so.

The Maid of Honor spoke, not with the aid of her mask, but her true voice. So sincere, genuine, as such that blood sure enough came rising up blistering hot to my cheeks. Had I been...bewitched!?

"You are kind, much too kind."

Me? Kind?

"Had this world been kinder, it would have honor to be by your side, but this will not be. In a month's time, you must choose your successor. In a month's time, **I** will be forced to raise my hand against you. In a month's time, we will all part, so near, yet so far away. **I** am certain we will all be together that day on _Childhood's End_."

W-Wait, how can she be so confident? Even if we part, we can always speak with each other anytime! I... H-Hey, why is she speaking with "I"? And this manner... This was not the masked or the unmasked Nina Wang I knew, so who...?

"Do not make such a face. **I **see right through you, perceive your true self. Yes, a **body **of swords and a heart of _glass_."

What!

"Even now, _**you **_stand alone, always alone, reveling, intoxicated with victory atop the hill of swords, having overcome countless battles. Though _**you **_yearn to be understood, the warmth of others, those hands will never hold anything. Why? _**You **_already know that answer best of all."

No. No. No. No. No. **NO**. It's not true!

"Then where is the real you, Nina. Wang. Or is it true that the dog takes after the master?"

At that very precise moment, every hair on my body stood on end, as if someone had just hit me with the fabled bloodlust Master Rishu had lectured us on. I could not pin point its location at all, but what I could be certain of was that I was positively drowning in it to my bowels. The color drained from my taut face, as it twisted into a grotesque snarl, sweat bleeding onto the clammy skin. Darkness descended upon the room, leaving no light save for the nightmarish haze of red that superseded Nina Wang's silhouette inscribed into a black spiral.

And yet, she spoke still, ever pure.

"Perhaps, the **I **who art _**I **_is nowhere to be found. Did you know? **I **was born nameless. Not even a _shadow _to call my own. Locked away in _Abyss_. Aye, **I** carry the shadow of others, their true selves. **I **wonder where art _**I**_, my shadow? In _**you**_, mayhap?"

And I screamed into the opening maw...

* * *

_Y'know, that was too damn dangerous._

_Didn't figure there were things like _**that **_still hanging around._

_You-__**you **__almost screwed everything up._

_It's still too soon. Too soon._

_Good thing, it's still just a kid._

_Heh, calling a weapon of mass destruction just a kid? Man, what a time we live in._

_Don't worry. I played nice. I'm a nice guy, really._

_But don't count on it happening again._

**I **_am_...!

* * *

When I came to, it was once more in a sickly sweat. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive as the senses invaded the grip of reality, absorbing, analyzing, hypothesizing, and then...

"I'm...h-home. Not home-home. But, this is...my bedroom. Right?"

The fight left my body cold, as each prickle and goosebump, bled away into a new brand of agony. My heart seized, pouring liquid fire into the feeble body. Breathing came to a wheezing sick, as gravity laid me out crashing onto the floor, a heap of misfiring limbs, writhing, wringing, and clenching.

Not good. Not good at all. Could this be a sign of withdrawal symptoms? When was my last "fix"?

Five minutes; no, less than five minutes; the pain, it was as if I was being burned alive. No, calm down, 'tis difficult but I can still move. Have to finish the procedure; hurry!

"S-Ssss...Son-g....T-To...Y-You...COME!" I barely gasped out, the warm air like razor blades in my constricting throat.

Absurdly, there was no response. What I had just enacted was a simple recall protocol, though limited in range, would remotely activate my storage device and bring it to my person, wrapping me in its protective embrace swift as the gale. Yet, nothing had happened, and worse, I always kept S2U within arms reach.

What a catastrophe! Was I to expire here in beside my own bed? Conspiracy. Murder! No, no, NO. My eyes are failing me. Red, browning, double, black... Everything was going numb... Wait, this feeling: something is tugging at my circuits, a little extra spin to the linker core...ah, I am already set up!

"...A-A...Act-ion..." come on, come on, "ECK-oh..." almost there, "Trip...le..." just one more breath, "SE-se, _k-khak-k_,VEN-!"

And lo, all the suffering went away in a tide of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen, punctuated by the climatic crescendo of a pneumatic hiss: ibuprofen and a dash of caffeine. You would be surprised how easy it is for a _magi_ to acquire the basic raw materials to make drugs because all of it comes down to chemistry, what you eat, and the very air we breathe. I still was not licensed for combat stims, but between my present credentials and my tech license with Sirta Foundation, I made it a priority to have auto-injectors as part of the schematic for my barrier jacket.

Boost-type spells were wonderful, but it would be quite some time before I would gain access to more powerful spells in the _Liber Goetia_. Not to mention, the ones I possessed presently did not last long after activation, meaning I would have to recast them ever so often, and they required my storage device to be fully manifest during use. Conventional drugs, on the other hand, were much more subtle and long lasting.

That aside, "...I am thirsty..."

I know it was an awfully casual way to brush off an intimate encounter with death, but considering I fought for my right to exist every waking hour, I had conditioned myself to consider basic needs first and foremost before worrying. And oh, was there a lot to worry about... There had been other paranormal occurrences, of course, since my last entry, but it was more of the usual: the blackouts, the other voice, and more of that Il Forte character.

Truth be told, I was learning quite a bit about him, though his exact motivations and dreams still eluded me. Most importantly, he and I were _similar_. Methinks people in general would be flattered or gratified to know that there others like them in a galaxy so far and wide, but to me, I fell into the camp of the minority. I was **disturbed**, greatly.

Somewhere out there was another soul being honed and fashioned into something by forces real and untouchable. Heh, and to think my own pain began with one passionate declaration from a me, who did not yet know himself, so young, so naive.

Now, I am filled with doubts. My actions were not hailed in celebratory triumph, instead I was to be reviled: the new tyrant born. Try and try again, escape from the archtype proved impossible, to be normal, to be a part of the fold; I cannot return. Maybe my luck will change at my next school. Surely, it is still not too late to rid myself of the shackles of fate that I had daftly worn, without knowing the full breadth of the consequences.

It was not easy being who I am, and I wonder, will that Il Forte grow to have the same doubts as I? And just what am I to think of Nina Wang, now? Just what was she? Did she even realize what sort of dangerous...whatever she was? Mystra, what am I going to do about this?

The half-empty glass of water rested in my grasp, the surface gleaming in the electric light streaming through the cracks in the blinds. An old expression from recruit training came to mind, as I reflected: "Here's to me. If you ain't drinking, well _frak _you! Here's to me..."

_Flick_!

"I am back~!" a rambunctious voice hollered out boisterously at the top of her lungs.

_Aaaagggh_, damnation! The lights! It burns! My eyes!

"And I got take out~!"

_Too_. **Loud**.

"And boy, did today suck," she went on oblivious to my distress, "so that White Day present better be-Holy Sweet Mystra!"

"What is IT, nya?!" I screamed back, clapping a hand over an ear, for the other was still occupied, regrettably.

Wait, "nya"?

"C-C-C-C-a..." a familiar blonde-haired figure began to take shape as my eyes adjusted to the new brightness. Funny, I had not been impeded in the slightest going down the hall to my kitchen. In fact, even with the lights off, it had been nearly bright as day to my eyes. I wonder why?

"'_Ca_' what, nya?"

There it is again!

"Cat e-ears, and, _tail_!"

I shot the now quite pretty ten-something-old girl a stupid look of bewilderment, for I in all honesty did not understand the cause for her distress. For your information, Ryuune Zoldark was already cute, by most near-human standards, when I first met her, and between time and the influence of our circle and extended family, well, obviously she has since graduated to pretty. To ram home the feminine point, she pulled out a compact of all things, an accessory demanded by her "_sempai_" and recommended strongly by the older women in her life and mine.

(The glamour glasses she took to wearing on occasion also enhanced her appeal even more so, for her emotion reflected readily so in the colors of her hair: red for anger or passion, and blue for boredom or calm, just to name a few.)

Come rain or shine, blood, guts, and gore, or the next dull moment, a girl can always spare a few to make sure she looked her best. If the men have a problem with it, just kick their _shebs_ and tell them to go field strip their gear for maintenance. They should not be wasting time ogling you in the first place, when you are trying to deal with stress in your own way.

Ryuune protested at first, but soon enough, the habit stuck. A decade later, I would see her use this particular coping mechanism as suggested by her predecessors and peer no less, grumbling how it would take days to get the stink of blood out of her skin. I wish I had the same "strength" of character as her for I was never able to trick myself with an effective diversion, but that is a story for another time. ...though I still get a laugh every time I recall her first catastrophic disaster's with make up under Nina's tutelage.

At present, the little mirror in the compact confirmed my suspicions.

"Oh Gods!" I flushed agape in mortification, "what am I wearing?!"

THAT was not my Barrier Jacket. In fact, I felt dangerously exposed in the chic getup that was supposed to protect, for my midriff and shoulders were entirely bare. The materials, a dark blue matching my hair and my newly added anthropomorphic ears and tail, were ultra-lightweight and thin: trousers sporting all sorts of unnecessary belts and loops, and long fingerless gloves reaching to my upper arms, fastened with belts. Last came the functional black boots and the ridiculous sleeveless muscle shirt with a high collar, ornamental black belt (in line with the rest), and a huge silver crucifix that seemed to hang in place magically upon my chest.

It was stupid. There was no way this scantily costume was going to stop even a blaster bolt. I might as well be going into battle naked, and I was extremely self-conscious of the way it hugged to me almost femininely, like a second skin. So...tight! Definitely, not my Barrier Jacket...well, technically, it is just with the "Cat Suit" mod setting sent by Lieutenant Lieze a month ago.

Strange: my senses feel much sharper than before. These smells, hmm?

"Were you with Nagi and Nina earlier, nya?"

"Huh?" Ryuune dropped her schoolbag in surprise, before recovering with airy scoff, "Oh, _pshhhhhhhhh_! No, duh. I gave fairy boy a Valentine so of course he was going to hunt me down today."

"What's today?" I am sure she already told me, but I wanted to confirm was about all.

"White Day! And you know, that jerk had Nina helping him too, so they double teamed me at the same time. Totally unfair!"

Well, that explains the cologne and the perfume, not to mention... Oh, frak. A month has passed in an instant!?

"Wait, when did you get on such good terms with-" my mouth blurted out impulsively.

_Flash_.

_Agghhh_, not again!

"Thank you~," the Corellian announced in a jolly tone, waving something in the air. "I'll be keeping this for the memories!"

Upon blinking out the blotches in my vision, I was horrified to see that the object in question was a digital camera. Putting the possible two's and two's together, my face only blanched paler at the implications. "N-No way..."

"Yes way," a decidedly Nagi-like, impish smile manifested on Ryuune Zoldark's pretty face. Funny: it actually looked good on her.

"Could we please keep it between the two of us?" Hey, I had to try pleading at least, right?

"Depends if you can impress me, Mister Harlaown. You had some pretty big talk last month, so it's time to face the music, Chrono!"

M-Me? Big talk? ...Damn, _Him_. _He _can take control of my body to this extent? After all, there is no way I could just be lying in a daze for an entire thirty days. Ugh, how frustrating but now was not the time to be-

"I'm waiting~," the Corellian hellcat sang, and just to prove she was not idle threats, she produced her PDA and was already thumbing through visible HoloNet mail addresses. "I wonder, if Lin'_buir_ will add this permanently to the family photo album?"

Knowing Mother...**yes**, and she would share! Great, if I was _Him_...wait, would _He_ even know how to bake a confection or make chocolates? Oh, no; oh, dear; what a disaster! There is no way I am going to tell her I forgot, so...

My rampant, frantic thoughts came to a sudden stop, when a curious tug at the bottom of my lead me --- astray. Disregarding the heat rising to my cheeks, and ignoring the similar red-faced shock on a certain girl's face, I glanced over to discover that my new tail was for more than show. It was quite functional for wrapped in its coil was a white heart-shaped packaged, wrapped in a blue cloth, no, a bandanna(?), tied as a bow. How skilled...

"Well, here it is," I presented the gift, undoing the bow for her.

My colleague accepted without complaint, in fact, I swore I saw a little sparkling glimmer of anticipation in those blue eyes; alas, that spark died the moment she opened her gift. A heavy air of disappointment invaded the air, as a dark cloud metaphorically began to condense above her. Like a blaster, Ryuune Zoldark leveled an agitated gaze at me, setting aside the chocolates with her brow twitching.

"White chocolate? That's it? That's gonna solve my hair problem, _wise guy_?"

Somehow, I did not lose my composure, and as a matter of fact, I was quite confident, like I rehearsed for such a onerous reaction from the start. Words and expressions flowed freely from me, without skipping a beat.

"That's a bonus, nya. _This _is my real gift."

I unfurled the bowtie into a sizeable piece of cloth, not too big but not too small either, convenient as a headband or could be worn around the neck for various utilitarian purposes. The color was the same shade of fair blue as seen in her own eyes, an implication that brought another round blushing to myself. I had to admit it was an apt choice on _His _part.

Such subtleties though blew right over Ryuune Zoldark's head, instead that child-like anticipation returned in full force in a burst of happiness. She gave a big laugh and threw her arms around in a burly, crushing hug.

"Oh, oh, you're the best! I knew I could count on you to surprise me, Chrono, just like you promised at the dance."

Considering our close proximity, you will forgive me if I reddened even worse, not to mention our awkward height differences: she the taller, and I the shorter. Wait, what was this about a dance? Me? Her? Dancing? Had Nina Wang finally deemed "The Bavel Warthog" worthy to be my escort?!

"Not just a bandanna," I parroted my rehearsed lines, like clockwork, separated on the surface from the rising tide of my inner turmoil, "but a simple device with a healing spell installed. Sirta Foundation. Output is about Class-III. Can be mental, auto, or voice activated. Mana condensers automatically fill on their own. All you have to do is say the word when you need it in a pinch. Keeps the hair and sweat out of your way, and it patches you up. Perfect, nya?"

"Thanks~" she sang her gratitude, pulling away a bit, "Now, c'mon, c'mon, put it on for me! I bet it'll make a swell _hachimaki_!"

"Oh, so have you changed your mind about cutting your hair short?" I felt myself waggling my eyebrows slyly at her. Was this part of the script too?

"Ee-ehehe, you know _this _stuff is high maintenance," Ryuune chuckled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged a little pink.

"Every woman needs a little vanity."

"Wha~at? You sayin' I'm not girly enough, Mister?"

See between being around the Devil, his Maid, and our extensive "little" family, the cycles had transformed the previously incorrigibly choleric tomboy into a sanguine, assertive... Well, she was not quite a tomboy anymore, as Nina, Mother, Countess Lowran, and even Lieutenant Lieze, had seen to that... Ryuune had transformed from a frayed hellish alley cat into a right and proper lioness, as she was surely meant to be. I am even a touch jealous that her culinary skills were on the verge of surpassing my own.

"You _were _a super tomboy before you met me and everyone. I think, having these strong role models around truly assisted in you finding yourself, considering you do not get embarrassed as much by this sort of talk anymore. Had you not met them, I would imagine you would still be grappling with your femininity."

"Yeah, yeah, keep patting yourself in the _shebs_, wise guy."

Then, there was moment's pause.

"...You know, I was not serious about the hair thing."

"...you were joking?"

"W-Well, yeah!"

And just as suddenly, a curious and almost dreadful thought occurred to me.

"Uh, you're not thinking," I blurted out, all semblance of cool gone, as I fell into my informal speech, "I prefer long hair or something, right?"

"_Phwoar_, do I look like I care?" she scoffed imperiously, bringing a hand up to her now rosy cheek.

Oh, Mystra, what have I done to deserve being put on the spot like **this**, but if I have come this far, then...

"Well, if you want my honest opinion...turn around, I'll put this on for you."

I might as well go at it guns blazing, and unbelievably, my foolish courage was rewarded. The legendary spitfire glowed bright red from head to toe, but instead of a fervent protest, what I got was a rather girlish murmur of sorts and she turned her back to me. Suffice to say, I think it was close as I was going to get to a "You may, Sir Chrono." from her, and I "merrily" got to work before she changed her mind.

"I suppose, it doesn't matter too much, as long as it fits a girl's image. Sure, some girls would look better if they had more hair to play with. Then again, short hair suits other girls better, as if you couldn't imagine them any other way, um, but they can surprise you with a fantastic change in image. Don't think it's always possible considering the rather subjective nature of beauty. It's in the eye of the beholder, yeah?"

"Hmm, then what kind of hair do you think **I **look best in?"

"Err, I-I feel, what you got is great. See, it's still in regulation. A-and, you don't need a waiver for it. L-little past the shoulders. Uhh, you got enough to do a swell ponytail, go for a bun, twin tails, side tail, braids, uh... Actually, I wonder...ponytail... C-Could I do your hair? I think the bandanna could double up as a pseudo ribbon-"

"H-Hell no, yous! Stop getting perverted ideas!"

Thankfully, I managed to just finish before she pulled away.

Ryuune Zoldark looked --- perfect, as if the last missing piece to the puzzle of her portrait had been added at long last. By the time we graduate from the Battle School, I am sure she will be beautiful, and not long after, breath taking, much like her "mothers". _Hnnn_, the only thing that make it look better is some casual wear: blue jeans, a little worn out and slashed, tank top - probably in white, oh, red pumps with a cowboy heel, and without a doubt, the distinctively stylish Navy "G-1" flight jacket with furred lining all the way up to the collar. Mystra, I cannot wait to get one of those!

"Oi, is that a pervy face I see," she sniped at me with the faintest tic in her brow, "Cadet First Class Chrono Harlaown?"

"Nya! S-Sorry..."

Now, it was my turn to have problems looking her in the eye; still I could not help but catch the little secret smile on her face, as I turned away. She appeared to be quite pleased with my flattering response.

"You know, it was _just _obligation chocolate. Only you and Nina got the buddy-buddy choco from me."

Officially, she still did not like Nagi, including her own guardian, but had come to accept his impish nature as a necessary evil in the world. Paraphrasing the old adage, she nodded that not all battles were won with a fist breaking someone else's teeth in for in those times a war of words might be all that was needed to win the day. Thus, both gentlemen had received Valentine's from her this cycle, so did Ryuune explain to me.

"By the way, is that tail real?"

Phew, perhaps the rest of this evening will come to a peaceful close without further...wait, what!

"Huh-GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

_Mystra_.

She.

Really.

Pulled it!

**Ar**-_aghhh_...

* * *

Alas, there was no time to sort out any lingering loose ends, for I was woken well before the crack of dawn by a frantic, wide-eyed Ryuune Zoldark, hollering red-faced at the top of her lungs.

"WHAT THE FRAK ARE YOU DOING? GET DRESSED. MOVE. TODAY'S THE DAY. Ooo~ TUMORAH, WHY DID I HAVE TO OVERSLEEP?"

The morning "hangover" from my body running low on my daily fix was not helping to clear up the bewildering situation. A fact compounded further by the lights to my bedroom flashing on brightly, thanks to the Corellian girl's urgent command, which blinded me, quite painfully, sinking me further into the disorienting haze of "I wanna go back to sleep and forget this whole nightmare".

"Zoldark, _hsss_, you _have _less than fifteen minutes!"

Nina Wang? I... Tsk, what was all this commotion about? Today is the day?

"The transports, alas, shall not wait an eternity for us, Dame Zoldark, even if this Fool would!"

Nagi Dai Artai as well? Transports?

"COMING~!" Ryuune, quite disheveled, shouted back, before she flushed red and thought better, "AND NOT LIKE THAT, YOU DIRTY INCUBUS!"

A bark of laughter was her answer, the owner having caught wind of the innuendo (whatever it was supposed to mean) well in advance. I could already see the beginnings of a scheme to be acted on later a light in her blue eyes. Nagi and her were close as "friends" as "Geri and Tom", and that meant it was justified perfectly so when she decided to one up the score. For now, the Corellian had bigger fish to fry, namely me, whom she fixed with a meaningful look, arms akimbo, and thank Mystra, speaking in a normal tone of voice. It was remarkable how fast she calmed down. I must thank Nina Wang one of these...

"Alright, yoohoo, rise and shine, 'cause we've got to **move**. Dress warm. Take just the bear necessities: military ID, dog tags, PDA, drop the wallet - you won't be needing it. And please, please, for the love of Lady Luck, don't. forget. Your. Device!"

Now, why in Mid-Childa would I not take my wallet with me? And today's Sunday for goodness' sake!

"You're shooting me a stupid look, Harlaown. C'mon, say it."

I assure you I was not making a face at the time because I felt like it. Still, if I did not want her asking questions, it would be if I just played along, praying she would not notice my rising discomfort. ..._ugh_, what I would do for Nina's divine intervention right about now, but...

"I. Don't. Think. You. Wan-na. See. Me. Butt-_nekkid_," I growled out in a harsh rasp. Try as I might, it was impossible to effect some semblance of normal speech, for a sharp jolt of pain had partially paralyzed my jaw in a burning rigor, making articulation an effort in itself. So, it came across that I was quite hacked off at the moment, rude awakening notwithstanding.

Ryuune being Ryuune, though, took no offense. She turned bright red with a richtus "Oh" and promptly excused herself. At that point, I did not know whether to be relieved or to be disappointed that she did not explode in a manner I would have expected of her just a few cycles prior.

Mystra, methinks, she has grown, after all. As for myself...well, that remains to be seen, I suppose.

* * *

We caught the last bird leaving the airfield just in the nick of time, all thanks to Nagi. There were many things, of course, you could count on him for, and in our particular case of dire straits, it was to be well-prepared in advance. He had a speeder outside, ready and waiting, and the valet droid was more than obliged to gun the engine at top speed to make the last the departure flight.

Safely aboard the tactical cargo lifter, destination unknown for all the window ports had been sealed shut, we were left to our own devices in the relative dark. Punctuated by emergency floor lights and an assortment of LED panels scattered throughout, the amusing notion that we were not truly in the belly of an aircraft, but at a night club instead came to mind. And I for the life of me could not think of better company to be with, except our little entourage of fairies and devils seemed to be keen of glancing furtively at me, making even catching a wink of sleep impossible.

I could feel the gravity of their gazes on me, and it was not helping to put aside my internal rancor at being so close to Nina Wang. There was unfinished business between us, something I felt she deserved to know, but I was not about to bring Nagi or Ryuune on such a private matter. I have made it this far and I do not intend to involved anyone else.

Still, I suppose it must be myself who must break the ice:

"Well, what is it? 'Tis not in the temperament of you lot to hold your tongues when you wish to speak your minds to me."

My little gruff yet affectionate performance seemed to have the desired effect on my companions, whom all appeared to break out into their characteristic displays of relief: Nagi in laughter, Ryuune in a "I knew it all along" scoff, and a nod of ascent from Nina, unmasked. Otherwise, she would have sighed.

"By and by, are you ill, Friend Chrono?" the Fool asked me out of the blue, opening the line of dialogue that likely was on everyone's mind.

"_Hnn_?

"Y'know," Ryuune gestured emphatically in humorous tones, "it's not like you to forget. I mean, eh-hehe, I kinda..."

"This one believes thou would spake, '_Kind of_'," Nina corrected from across us by Nagi's side, in her eccentric mix of venerable High Gothic and functional basic. I could only chalk it up to the tastes of those in "The North", as her liege lord would say.

"Kind of," she fixed herself without missing a beat, "expected to be the one to mess things up this morning."

Yes, the Corellian hellcat just brushed of being corrected, without making a fuss. No, you are not dreaming, either. I did say between Nina and the womenfolk she had changed, did I not?

"Well," I fixed them all with a hapless sulky expression, which earned eager looks all around. Except for Nina, of course, she offered her prim and proper deference, though I could not help but notice the subtle fidget of her hands. What a troublesome bunch. It was not as if I was someone that special. "I think you all should feel privileged to see the Number One Idiotic Captain in the Universe on his off day. Please, feel free to take a picture for posterity."

"_She_ is filming the monumental occasion as thou speakst thus," our Maid of Honor interjected in perfect deadpan, holding up her gas mask, its red photoreceptors aglow in the dark.

I could only stare equally deadpanned, agape, as the devil prince and the Corellian hellcat guffawed at my expense. It appeared the joke was on me.

"Anyways, if you are all quite full of humor, just where is this bird going?"

"No idea, no impact!" Ryuune declared proudly. Hey, what was there to be proud about letting everyone know you had no idea where we were going? Huh? Huh! Does this look like a comedy routine, huh?

I turned to Nagi.

"Forgive me, Heroic Chrono," he smiled that Nagi-like smile, "but even the Fool could not divine our destination."

Okay, that was not a good sign, and today was what - Martius 15th, the day after White Day, and a Sunday - a Sunday where I should be sleeping in and going to a late brunch, but instead...

"Nina?"

"This one would believe that destination matters not, only the certainty of the grave task at hand."

...I am hungry, holed up in the belly of a barely heated aircraft, sleep deprived, and everyone around me seemed to be in on some manner of "classified information" that I knew not. Mystra, could these friends of mine not take the bait and explain to me what in the frak are we doing out here on this most holy of holiest days to me!? I like my Sundays! It was the one day of the week I tried not to think about anything as part of my recent New Cycles resolution, suggested by Ryuune Zoldark no less, and I think it was doing wonders for my sanity, thank you!

Fine, I will just have to bite the bullet and...

"What does a Sergeant Major have to do around here to get some sleep?!" a deadly voice grated out all of a sudden.

Instantly, our backs straightened and eyes moved dead forward, while our hands came to rest on our laps, flat. There was only one person who ever commanded that manner of lightning obedience from us four. No else ever succeeded, either. The cold had dulled her noses quite a bit, but soon enough, an equally familiar odor accompanied by boot clad footfalls and a rush of scampering feet announced in advance who was coming down the line. Curiously, it was also about then I noticed that our flight was mostly devoid of other passengers.

"And what do we have here. Look at that, Mird, isn't it Harlaown and Associates?"

Sergeant Major Walon Vau and Lord Mirdalan, the former as terrible and severe as ever. His long square-jawed face was all bone and frown lines, with graying dark hair cut brutally short. The man's eyes spoke volumes about the soul that lay within the venerable black _beskar _armor.

We all stood up and lined up before him at parade rest, tallest to shortest, then came to attention together before chorusing as one, "Good morning, Sergeant Major!"

"And how do you know it's going to be a good day, _hnn_, Zoldark?" he asked as we went back to parade rest in lockstep.

"Because we're gonna make you proud today, Sergeant Major!" she came to attention once more and declared in a proud bragging voice, confidence radiating from her posture and demeanor. Of course, the Corellian made sure not to smile. After all, he had not put us at ease yet, and Vau liked his close order drill and courtesies-and-customs very much so. It was a routine we have long since become intimately familiar with.

"True, I've heard the rumors of your exploits," Vau favored our fireteam with a scrutinizing look, his characteristic shark eyes scathing over us like the sweep of a surgical knife. He was inspecting us, assisted no less by his loyal strill that came up right beside our legs and sniffed with keen interest. "At least three of you _happened _to put our lessons to practical use on an almost daily basis these past three cycles, isn't that right?"

Mird effected a laugh, well, at least something as close to a "laugh" the strill could vocalize, hissing in a crooning wheeze. The smelly little thing seemed pleased for some reason and promptly scuttled away to elsewhere, its footsteps soon hidden by the ambience of the cargo bay.

The Sergeant Major seemed to understand some unspoken message, and nodded his own approval.

"Fireteam, at ease."

With a small measure of relief, we obeyed, though I could not help but wonder why was it that the notorious Mandalorian advisor chose to spend a few more idle moments with us. Surely, the Walon Vau had better things to do, and what dumb luck it was that we would be bound on the same flight as him.

"Here, a graduation present."

I was struck speechless, for the man, grinning, had produced four green martial belts with a single black slash near the buckle. We tested many a time for the belt and the distinction but Vau had always held off, making us four stuck as grey belts, even though we were the only ones left from his original class. Everyone else had long since put their martial arts training on the back burner to focus more on their magical aptitude, per say. Gratified I was, but for him to come out now out of the blue was just...

"Don't think of it as kindness, cadets. I only thought if you were to die at some point over these next fourteen days, you at least deserve to be buried with full honors."

What! Fourteen days? Death?!

"Your bearing still needs work, Harlaown," the Sergeant Major detected my distress as surely as a predator to blood.

"Yes, Sergeant Major," I spoke as coolly as I could manage, despite the burning embarrassment flush on my cheeks.

"Sergeant Major," Nagi interjected, unexpectedly, before Vau could descend on me, "a favor if you will to your short lived students for a briefing in advance of our final examination, perhaps?"

Distracted, the Mandalorian turned his ire on the unflappable little prince instead. Somehow or another those two had come to a working relationship, that is Vau was actually comfortable around the Fool, which was a high praise in itself. I think the reason was because underneath the veneer of youth and experience they were men who held similar values and beliefs, of which I could not divine to know.

"Are you bargaining with me, Cadet Artai?"

"We could consider our debts in R.U.S.E. forgiven."

Vau gave a harsh laugh, yet one that seemed filled with genuine mirth. Suffice to say, it took a lot of willpower for both myself and Ryuune not to gape in an astonished richtus.

"Fair enough. Cadet Wang, pass out the belts to your mates, and we'll start this brief, likely the last brief you should ever receive from me. I know I don't want to see any of your faces again, after the graduation ceremony. In fact, I had better not catch you until the day you all are commissioned, or one of you unfortunate _shabuir_ is coming with me for a _little _**run**, understood?"

* * *

Operation _Flashpoint_, a humble war game designed to simulate a fourteen day ground war, based on an amalgam of conflicts, is situated in central east Yuktobania's Gulbina region. The locale in particular is the Gulbina Blade Ridge Mountains, covering 130,000 km^2. Here, approximately 2000 to 3000 cadets will participate in a practical examination that will put all their knowledge and training to the test in a secure, monitored environment. The ground war is broken into four distinct zones: the hilly tundra plateau, populated with scattered settlements and sparse wooded areas, leading to the mountain pass. There was but a handful of trails for traversing on foot and even scarcer "roads" for vehicles and walkers to pass, with the other side of the ridge opening into the Blade Forest, once a point of interest for commercial logging. Through the old wood and across the ice flow river lied the last point of interest, the Valley of End, where heavy fighting will be concentrated likely when the conflict draws to its inevitable conclusion.

_Flashpoint_ is designed to support a variety of missions so that virtually all MOS's are represented. Of course, for the sake of safety, certain concessions had to be made as there was no way to simulate them up to snuff. Artillery, heavy armor, heavy mechanized armor, air power, and naval power are MIA in the exercise. Cadets still have access though to a variety of expected modern warfighting vehicles from speeder bikes to the venerable All Terrain Open Transport. Devices and various conventional armaments will be appropriately "handicapped" and modified to provide a real as possible wargame, while minimizing the possibility of death or injury.

Still, deaths and regrettable injuries do occur, in spite of all good intentions. It might be a game but war is a grave business nevertheless, and some cadets transformed by the heat of the hour may take it too far.

Volunteers, both civilian and visiting regular units, and paid contractors populate the battle space as noncombatants and unaligned, opportunistic OpFor, augmented further by specialist aggressors and an army's worth of battle droids. That said, trust no one unless they were from your own army, and even then, be wary for enemy factions may have infilitrated into your own ranks. It is a lot of pressure and "dying" in the exercise is the equivalent of real death, meaning those cadets will be evaluated up to their moment of death.

Suffice to say, it is favorable to stay alive and make a difference as long as possible to ensure you make it to graduation. Otherwise, you were going to have to wait, until a remedial opportunity arises. Luckily, Atlas runs _Flashpoint_ three times every academic cycles, but just the same, cadets only have three tries to get it right. Failure results almost always into a discharge into the regular forces with a non-commissioned enlisted rank equivalent to the cadet's abilities, qualifications, and present education. Following that course of action, cadets may receive an entry level separation or honorable discharge, with an entirely different procedure dedicated to those who fall into less savory categories.

Note: the three strikes rule applies to all training schools under the "umbrella" of the Battle School.

"As for what else I can offer you to think about while you sit through in-processing... Aside from what you're wearing and your devices, expect all weapons and sustenance to be acquired on site, even if you end up in the larger armies that are lucky enough to secure hidden supply depots from the old hey-days. Also, don't expect it to be fun and games just because you're in an army: superior kit and extra chow will likely be reserved for the best units. Don't rely on your sorcery too much. Remember your lessons now. That stuff powers through your calories fast.

"You're going to be fighting for fourteen days in the thorny _shebs_ biting freeze, and we're expecting lots of snow, wind chill, maybe even a blizzard in the fourteen days we're out here. Don't worry we'll be out and about to pick up your _dead_, dying, or both, but ff Mandalore hates you enough, we might even get _razor hail_. I'll be cozy in my command post, with Mird, sipping _recaff_, while watching you all scamper around for your lives. It's you _shab_'_la_ that have to worry about frost bite, hunger, sickness, water, shelter, digging your own latrines, worrying about someone sneaking in the middle of the night to slit your throats...not me."

"Now, cadets, are you having fun yet? Because Sergeant Major will be honest, he's looking forward to seeing you all _cry_. Welcome to _dar_'_yaim_."

* * *

_**dar**_**'**_**yaim**_

**Noun**

1. a hell.

2. a place you want to forget.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.26 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. I'll leave speculation on what Nina is to you all. Promise we'll come address that lingering mystery, eventually. Otherwise, well, you can all look forward to some tactical military action real soon.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


	28. Vision 1 2: This Enemy

* * *

_'O fair Sun_.

_Thou, so bright_.

Welcome, honored guest. My, how you have grown! Why, 'twas but yesterday you arrived. So, shall it be the usual? Aye, so shall it be.

Now, lend Us your ears, and listen closely to the words of wise men, for their words illuminate the searching darkness in our lives like the light of the Sun.

"_Regarding Enemies_"...

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Vision 1-2:

_This is your Enemy_

This Episode brought to you by Person with Many Aliases

Preface and Edits by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

Roxana was an able teacher in terms of theory. She knew me, and knew how to apply learning material so it would be both applicable to me, as well as interesting. It made my studies enjoyable.

However, I may not have known it consciously, but ruminating upon the matter, it was quite conclusive to me that when it came to experiencing combative arts, even in a "safe" environment, Roxana will never be able to bring herself to raise a Device on me. Such is the ways of doting servant-guardians.

Telos, however, was always more than willing to find time in his itinerary to infuse such "experience". Though I am unsure if it was beneficial or not to have Pirámide, as he seems to always follow Telos about, be my actual regular sparring opponent.

Whether he truly has a disdain for my existence or not, Telos, at least ensures my pain, or even accidental death, is truly intended for educational purposes-

_FWHOOSH_!

Pirámide swings his large, cross-shaped Condenación at my head. Even though Baluarte is in my left hand, I am able to send the sword like Engine Device sparking along the front of my own, directing it over my head and to the other side, before I dart back. My arm still feels like it is vibrating. I need to stop thinking so much.

As previously mentioned, in these years, Telos has taken over my advanced training, meaning I make regular visits to the _Circo_ zone of _Reino del Cielo_. While Castillo is fortlike, and very solidly built, it slowly levels down, until you reach the flat lands of _Circo_, which is interspersed with busy hamlets that seem to grow by no particular logic. There are some diagonal rows of what is called "pueblo-like" structures, running for some distance, before some design in history suddenly has it terminate in a large village like structure. No logic at all. I am curious what they could have been possibly-

"Il Forte! I know you're over thinking! Stop doing that! This isn't a dance! This is survival, and the ones who did it best were animals!"

"T-Telos! You shouldn't taunt Il Forte like that-"

"Stuff it, Roxana. Avestruz, stop _that_."

"Hey, music resonates with the unconscious, right? Battle music is a proven concept-"

They argue again, whilst Pirámide attacks me again and again. No magic, no Rare Skill. Only a sword against a shield, however that will turn out. Telos seems insistent on the assumption that I was overly pampered in my treatment. I may have been, possibly, but I do not believe it has made me dull. We fight in a dusty field, some distance away from the housing in _Circo_. Nearby I can see an artificial well of fluid sustenance for open use. Roxana watches worriedly, trying not to clasp her hands, her doting instincts and her professionalism at war. Telos is all entertained smugness, with crossed arms, though I cannot see his face from under his large helmet, as usual. Avestruz, to my surprise, as shown his Device can be used for purely musical endeavors, even though it is a weapon.

Pirámide, of course, is assaulting me by all means possible, and he is-

"Gagh!"

Blood flies. Condenación managed to edge its way under Baluarte to throw my defending arm aside, at the same time ripping a large gash along the underside of my forearm. Cloth tears and my skin burns. Pirámide punishes me for my carelessness, the butt of his grip slamming into my stomach, before using his other hand to hold the flat of his blade, swinging it up so that the other side meets my face with enough force send me onto my back.

I try to breath, but it only comes up as staggered coughs. Pirámide backs away. He is silent, and he may not be as adaptive as the rest of us, but he is no fool, especially when it comes to the sword. He can tell sense that this is as far as today's practice will go.

"Il Forte!" Roxana is already rushing to kneel by me, inspecting the wound, "Ah! Now you've done it, you two! This might even leave a mark...!"

"_Tch_, so what? Everybody needs a scar. It's not like Golden Boy will even get the chance to get some war stories on his body, so he should have something." Telos mocks, as the remainder of them gather about. Roxana isn't pleased by those words, while she helps me up. If only the intestinal region was tougher, but alas, right now, my only concerning is trying to acclimate myself to the pain.

"You're too hard on him, Telos!"

"Fuck off."

"You...!"

Avestruz takes over, "Hey, hey, hey! Now the two of you don't get all pissy over a misunderstanding! Il Forte got no trouble with this, right? Roxana's got every right to care, and Telos never said that he gonna play nice, now, right?"

"But Il Forte never takes care of himself! If I'm not around, he would have run himself into the ground just forcing himself to keep learning!"

"Tch, like I would have let him."

They argue for a few more minutes. Roxana doesn't forget I have an injury. Pirámide watches silently. Avestruz seemed to always be one for mediating. Perhaps it is his nature as _La Trayectoria_. Telos and Pirámide, of course, are recognizably_, La Masacre_, the extreme and most action driven of Espada. I never asked of Roxana, but I always had some suspicion she is _El Pilar_. It doesn't help that we first met in _Castillo_, where they usually reside. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised that one from Pilar, and another from Masacre will clash. Politics will arise everywhere, even in Espada.

"Il Fort-e~? Does it still hurt?"

The pain in the arm seems manageable, as long as I do not move it. The pain on my torso is somewhat less, but on the whole...

"Not... as much. But I won't lie. This is something I have no intent of bravely putting up with."

Telos snorts, "You'll have to eventually."

Roxana helps hold me up, while I retort, somewhat breathlessly. But of course, my diaphragm.

"Eventually. The intent of this exercise was about basic hand to hand, not sheer survival skills, Telos Sabueso."

"Fine, fine. You can stop for today and patch up with your little maid. But before that, I want to know, do you know why you got hurt today?"

There are a number of reasons. I'm not sure which is the most pressing cause of my defeat. I make it known, before Telos spits it out.

"You still think too much! God damn, do you think that a mental debate is something you need in the middle of battle?"

My apologies, though I am unsure if I can stop doing that even in the middle of fighting. I need to think things through.

"Well, you don't have time to, in fighting. It's either do or die. You think the some Bureau Dog is going to be stand around, while you twiddle your thumbs, wondering if how you're going to kill them is going to work?"

"...I shall remember this lesson, Telos. I will, after all, be carrying it on this arm."

"Tch, you better."

* * *

"Geez, Il Forte... are you sure you want to just leave it like this? What if it gets infected? Doesn't it still hurt...?"

Having returned to my locale in _Ciudad_, the few motions made for considering my open wound was cleaning and sealing it with _bacta_-laced bandaging. Of course, I can still feel throbbing, and red is leaking upward into my wrapping. It will probably need to be changed at a later point today.

"If it becomes infected, I will take the steps necessary to disinfect it. It hurts now, but pain is a useful learning tool. At any rate, it will stop hurting soon, I'm sure."

"You shouldn't stand something like that just because...!" Roxana huffs about the central room, fixing drinks, and some powdered tonic. Most likely, some pain depressant. She continues her tirade.

"You're still like this. You never take care of your body, Il Forte!"

"My apologies, if I am worrying you... but these sorts of inflictions are hardly serious to warrant-"

She shoved a glass of juice at me, insisting, "Drink."

It is hard to resist her, when I am already guilty of putting her in a poor mood. I obey, pulling the toothy mask off my mouth to drink.

"You always apologize... but don't you consider my feelings about this? How much it worries me that you never pay attention to yourself?"

The powder she mixed into the drink acts fast, a cooler heat washing into my injured limb, turning pain into a simply uncomfortable warmth. I think about what she says.

"People usually wish to live long, simply because they have not found what they are looking for, and hope to one day find it. They wish to extend their career, and their existence, so that when it is over, they are satisfied, and have left a minor note in history of themselves."

"So?"

"I have no care of longevity. I have only one clear journey for me. The only thing that matters is that I live long enough to carry it through. When the journey is over, that will be the end of my usefulness. So, my personal considerations are not needed. Only that I have the experience and resources needed to reach my destination successfully, one way or another-"

"That's wrong!"

My excellent logical streak hit a dead end at those words, while Roxana came round to hold my hand in both of hers, while she looked very intently at me.

"You shouldn't think your life is just a means to an end! It makes me sad! Do you think I'm taking care of you just to watch you use it up like it was just a mission? Others may think that you're only purpose is just to bring Outer Heaven, like some convenient hero-"

(That does about sum it up, Roxana Bromista.)

"-But you're here, and I care about your life! I want to see it lived out to it's fullest!"

"My fullest isn't very long."

"You're just talking about your Rare Skill! What happens if you couldn't complete it?"

"I will complete it."

"But what if you can't? What if, for some reason, you just can't?"

That concept is somewhat preposterous. I do not understand how I could be simply "stopped". The only way I could be stopped, was if I was killed in battle. But how often will that happen, if the TSAB aren't even aware of the existence of myself, or even my powers? And if I am alive, how cannot I not move through the Fool's Journey? I can't. I will, someway or another. There is simply no way I won't. My entire purpose is simply to move from point A, to the eventuality of point B. There is no way I will not permanently disengage from this inevitability.

I cannot even imagine a life where I could do whatever I wished. That kind of life is not mine. The possibilities and variables and alternatives, in my mind, it simply just branches outwards infinitely, with no intent to move forward. How banal.

"I do not know how I cannot, unless I am dead, Roxana."

She sighed, as if she knows something I do not. Perhaps she does. She is older by a few years. Who knows what that difference can mean, in terms of experience. I may have clarity of mind, but I am by no means, anything but young. She still holds my hands gently.

"I hope you'll understand eventually, Il For~tay... but until then... can you look after yourself, for me? For my concerns? What happens to you may not matter to you, but what about me?"

The wavering voice of my mentor-servant-guardian. How much she cares. This single request, simply to notice myself in the same manner as a normal person would. I cannot decline.

Roxana Bromista is irreplaceable. She cares for me like no other, concerns herself for me like no other. I wonder, in her attempts to make me recognize my self-negligence, whether she does the same for herself? I am not crude enough to mockingly call this Irony. I have too much respect for her for that. Indeed, for what she does for me... I must give her all the respect and honor I have. This means I must care for myself as she says. I will make sure her sacrifices will never be in vain. I will live, and live until I complete the Fool's Journey, so that everything she has done for me will have meaning.

And when the Fool's Journey is complete, and everything changes, I will make sure that my last thought will concern her. It is the least I can do.

* * *

_A continuación se_...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Vision 1.2 in all of its awesomeness. Just a little something to wet y'all's appetites while 27 is underway. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. This episode was brought to you all by Person, and without him, it would not be possible. So give him the props, yo!

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!

Oh, and as a special promotion, here's an omake too.

* * *

Mahou Senki Enforcer: Tales from the Gravity Front

Battle of Geonosis

M-Log 1.2:

IRREGULAR / Theta Down

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

_Quick, the bayonet!_

"Don't hafta say twice," Aye shouted back at "I-Me", sendin' the command signal ta triggerin' the bayonet.

On cue, the underslung module attached ta the M14c's split open wit' a pneumatic hiss, revealin' the cracklin' blue "impact-shock core" inside (red when not charged). It was the closest thing Aye had ta a-magick based attack, as everythin' else was only usin' _mana_ as a free energy source to power or directly / indirectly manufacture what Aye needed. "Impulse Hammer": the spell itself is a variation on "Impulse Break", not as good at directly cuttin' through magical shields, but it pulverizes vehicles and humanoids alike real good.

Folk might survive the impact, but if his shieldin' ain't up ta snuff, poor bastard is gonna be naked for follow-up attacks. The trick: a killer hand o' a couple hundred metric tons of force into a hit area of a few square centimeters plus --- E-M-P --- in a focused, forward facin' directed attack, short range, from the point of impact. If the combi attack don't cut it, Aye can go for a pure EMP blast, too, an' still get the job done, but nevermind that-

_KRA_-_THAK_!

Damn, this mother hubbard's strong! Aye can feel the "Quartz" fiber actuators of Sheila's Muscle Engine growlin' mad just like a real gas guzzlin' truck, as the servos in mah right arm strained against the shockin' impact. Hell, a literal shockwave exploded in mid-air where we clashed, like a thunderclap, separatin' me an' the enemy violently. Altimeter showed Aye be fallin' mighty fast!

_Disable mufflers_. _Venting heat sinks_. _Full Action limit reached in_: _plus-minus 300 seconds_!

With the mufflers off, operatin' at full power exposed three o' the present generation Powered Trooper's weak points: One, the Muscle Engine gives off a loud as hell noise, just like an antique gas turbine powerpack. Two, Full Action taxes the body big time, like a hardcore session of CrossFit PT. Three, the internal temperatures shoot up fast in Full Action from the heat shed by the Muscle Packages; hot enough ta cook you alive. Ventin' wit' the heat sinks helps some, but makes ya bloom real bright and easy on infrared, not to mention the heat index will, sooner or later, exceed the powered device's ability ta stay cool. Overridin' the radiator's forced cooldown safeties is possible ta extend operational limits, but the trade-off is ya run the risk of core meltdown.

_Power has its price_.

Aye tuck into a ball again, roll ta correct my attitude, and kick out, hoping Aye land right side up, instead of fallen flat on mah behind. Lost sight of the enemy, landscape flashin' by, and adrenaline flowin' too fast, too furious, with a pinch of stims, for me ta cool mah head and glance at the motion sensor blip on the HUD. Heartbeat later, ground meets mah armored feet with a loud smack, gyros whir ta compensate, as Aye go slidin' downhill backwards, tracking plumes o' dirt. 'Course, it was no time ta be lazy; proximity alarm goes off hard right.

_Switchin' ta manual_.

Aye pivot and there's the mean mother hubbard, _again_, "steel" gleamin' in the dusky sun. Thoughts of how the-, when the-, who the- flash across mah mind, but good ol' fight-or-die remembers ta pull the trigger. Round goes a-flyin', and amazin'ly, the bastard saw mah aim comin', dives forward inta a-roll, while Mr. High Explosive Incendiary goes streakin' piss drunk through empty air. The dive finishes: the unknown is too close, we comin' up towards the bottom of the slope, Aye leap back, an' "he" swings that ridiculous two-hander wide out..._miss_.

_Reticle_. _Center target_. _Pull_.

Bang, Fourteen-point-Five-Mike-Mike goes roarin' out the barrel, center mass. _Miss_! Sonuvagun rolls right through mah shot, a little fireball and dirty dust behind showin' where it hit the slope. He be a lot closer than the last time, and that big sword a-come swingin' nuts fast. Flamin' jackass oughta run outta momentum some point, won't he? Aye bite the bullet on a gamble, leap back, cold steel comin' within a hairbreadth of kissin' Sheila's hull, which mighta darn tick me off. No one puts a doodle on her paint job unless it be me, yes-sah!

_Feint_.

Ha ha ha, nice thin' about havin' a backseat driver, he can switch in and out the ammo on the fly, and leave the fightin' ta me. Mister Sword hears and probably can feel the flash of the 14.5mm BLANK going off, so naturally he rolls again, having fallen inta the deadly song an' dance number we be doin'. Moment he moves; Aye move, flippin' forwards over him, and Aye draw an easy kill right on his back. No way a body can dodge a shot he don't be seein' a-comin' ta 'em!

**PHA**-_THANG_.

_Sithspit_; _that don't sound right at all_, Aye thought, vaultin' off mah free outstretched hand wit' some fancy gymnastics ta land feet first facing mah target. Aye knew a fine gal once from a contact of a client. Mysteries, the amazin' thin's she could do in bed, but nevermind that...

_Target still active. Full Action limit reached in: plus-minus 260 seconds._

Aye kid you not, Sah. No look, behind the back, like a real frippin' Jedi-voodoo or Sith-what'eva: the unknown had brought the great sword about ta defend his vulnerable back. The smoking scorch mark on the broad flat of the blade was proof o' his skills, luck, or what'eva you wanna call it. How he did it, Aye don't know (and Aye apologize for assumin' its a "he", but Aye usually assume most bloodthirsty mother hubbers are of the rougher gender). Maybe he was readin' mah mind, or somehow, Aye was just transparent ta him, like Aye be telegraphin' mah moves in advance.

Bottom line: Aye had the creepin' cold sweat lettin' me know it might just be 'bout that time Aye cut an' run. Aye don't get paid ta die, and Aye do fancy that Aye ain't quite bored of livin' yet. Problem was: how the hell do Aye get away from that sword swingin' maniac?

The enemy stands up and turns about face, real slow and purposeful like, as if he ain't afraid Aye gonna try and sneak bullet in between his cloak. First time Aye get a good look at him, too, and by golly, he was a big boy, two-hundred centimeters and-then-some (or seven foot) tall at least, reckon so. No identifying remarks; can't even see his face; he was just some perfect stranger of a mage, who hadn't said a peep since this fight started. Tsk, the fancy officers an' bitchy NCOs up in Deathwatch had a term for this sort of combatant, too. Try as the Union might, the feds can't control everyone and who's side they fight for... This guy...

_An IRREGULAR_.

Yeah, that's it! Aww... Hot damn; Mystra, what in the Mysteries am Aye supposed ta do? Drop smoke? Drop a flashbang? Then make mah run for it? Aye be spooked, an' no way Aye gonna win a fight, when mah boxers be bunchin' up in a stinky twist.

_Plus-Minus 225 seconds remaining._

The Irregular takes a stance: one-handed, blade held high and angled toward the ground, so he could defend with the flat while chargin' me. Obviously, its toughness against HEI was already proven. Blanks are easy ta change out on the fly, but other ammo types, Aye need at least sixty seconds for Sheila ta do the job. Reckon Aye could take mah chances an' engage hand-ta-hand. See: in theory, Aye could wrestle a repulsor tank ta a-dead cold stop. At least, Aye seen it done before...

"_TRITURADOR_," a thick, oily, disgustin' voice called out all of a sudden in an ugly squeal of metal and two people screamin' at once.

_Man and Woman_. _Funny_, _sounds like they're makin' love an' killin' each other at the same time_.

It was the sword, affirmin' mah suspicions even more. The sword was this fella's device: four jewels marked the control orbs / medals, one near the blade's tip, two in the crossguard, and one in the pommel. And, with a betta look, Aye realized too for the first time that this sonuvagun was swinging a giant crucifix, more or less, at me. Borderline blasphemy if ya ask me, then again, Aye had no favorites when it came ta religion an' gods.

_That glow looks mighty sick_, _waverin' purple an' black all along the blade, like a fresh bruise_.

The distant roar of a fireball, visible in the corner of the HUD, likely one of the Sep's Core Control ships dyin', hit me with inspiration. Crazy, stupid, sudden, but it might just work: the best defense is a good offense.

_Plus-Minus 218 seconds remaining._

Aye let Sheila do the talkin' for me, close-in guns blazin' an' engines howlin' mad. Bullets whistle through the sizzlin' air, as dirt flies underneath my thunderin' treads. Of all the dumb luck, Irregular hesitates, couple rounds deflectin' outright (_PLUCK_!) or explodin' real small-like against the mammoth crucifix sword, but the fella's tough, holds his ground, and then wades right in. Sparks fly, we clash; he swings first, throws his whole body into it, and pivots cross-wise up.

_Relax_. _ Lean back_.

Adrenaline be runnin' so high, Aye swear Aye be hearin' the sword singin' as it comes within centimeters of kissin' my armored face, a mean-looking boogeyman with two sets of glowin' blue eyes.

_Recover_.

Bang --- and a _miss_: Aye punch a nice hole in his cloak, though. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Forgot 'bout that raggedy billowin' thing would throw off how big he really was, but by the split second Aye realize ta compensate, its already too late to see the spinnin' heel kick comin'.

_Thwack_!

Sonuva dirt-farmer! Mah surprise cost me and there goes the M14c flyin' over the side, down into the ravine; Sheila's trackin' it fine. Aye'll get it later but bigger fish ta fry, now. On ta the next instinct, droppin' mah center of mass low, Aye return with a manreapin' leg sweep, bam! – off-balance - take out his leg, before he recovers inta some fancy acrobatics. The nasty thud o' the impact is good enough for me 'cause Aye don't stop, followin' through, and reachin' out no-looksie. Probably Aye already broke his leg, but nope, can't stop there.

_Rule #1: Kick 'em when they're down._

A powered trooper is, more or less, a big ol' bear or gorilla; lots of power, not a whole lot of finesse, when comes down to it. Therefore, it's only common sense that we be encouraged, the moment we get a hand hold of you, ta just beat the life out of you. A handful of the Irregular's cloak in mah fist, Aye rise an' bring 'im right back ta Mother Earth, overhead and down, with an ugly, wrenching sick.

_Again_.

Then Aye bring 'im back around the other way.

_Again_.

Pow! Plume of dirt busts up. But Aye don't stop.

_Again_.

It's kinda like watchin' a little girl just take her favorite doll an' beat it to death on everything.

_Again_.

Bones pop. Blood and puss oozes. Aye don't even realize Aye hollerin' mad as hell, holdin' no more than a drenched meat sack, and it goes on, the fury grippin' mah jugular deep.

_Again_.

Reckon it was somewhere around thirty go's, when copper and dirt splatters onto the HUD that Aye snap to and toss the "rag doll" down range. The cloak tears in mah clenched hand, and soon after, Aye hear, feel, see the corpse break against a hoodoo shattering it; rock buries 'im, partly. Then, the funny amber light landscape goes mighty quiet for a minute, up here on the ridge as the dust settled.

_Aye win_.

Hope we did. Trainin' told me Aye oughta skedaddle over and make sure the job was finished. Instinct though... It was the first time seein' who Aye was killin', and well, the sight was a little disgustin'. He was a big boy, just like Aye reckoned, but all pale like, white skin, real muscular; reminded me of mahself without the powered device, same height and weight. Was not wearin' much in the way of clothes or armor, damn fool: funny lookin' white apron / kilt he gots on for modesty (stained with his own blood and piss now), black boots (size somethin' awful), and forearm gloves that separated his hand into three fat finger sleeves. The funniest part though had to be the white pyramid doo-hickey shaped helmet he gots.

_Plus-Minus 200 seconds remaining._

With all that white, no wonder he was wearin' a cloak. Clean freakazoid (kinda reminds me o' a butcher). Figures it'd be the damn death of him, too.

_Plus-Minus 199 seconds remaining._

"_LA __RESURRECCIóN_," a digustin' voice squealed out that Aye did **not **want ta hear.

It was mah cue ta get out of there and not look back, 'cause judgin' by the explosion of that nasty magical aura and the unholy wrenchin' sounds of bone and flesh be knittin' back together, it was in mah best interests ta run. Beeline: straight over the edge ta the side where Aye was getting a ping from where the burst rifle was a-waitin' at the bottom of the ravine. Aye vaulted over, an' boy, was it a long craggy way down, but Aye didn't leave without a proper goodbye, though.

_Hisssssssss_...**KRAK**-_**FHWHOOOM**_!

It all went white for an instant. "Fuel Bomb": a hand-held fuel air explosive grenade, unpredictable, but the explosive yield is damn a-mazin'. If a man don't know how ta die when you hit with the kind of force that wrestles a repulsor tank, _fierfek_, fall back on bigger physics then. An' somewhere above me Aye can still feel the firestorm howlin' down ta mah bones, as Aye slid down and down the rocky slope...

_Hope that_'_s_ _the last time Aye see 'im_.

* * *

The next three minutes passed by in silence, a whole lot of cussin', and scratch one ten's of thousand credt rifle, whose replacement cost was gonna come straight outta mah paycheck. See, the ravine was a long ways down all right, and well, Aye underestimated the grade plus mah weight in full kit plus no good way ta slow down equaled...

One dumb mother hubbard punchin' straight through the ravine's "floor": just mah dumb luck ta land right into a hollowed out bug tunnel. The rest was history, long couple of minutes of fallin', slidin', tryin' ta stop mahself somehow, and then, bam! --- rock bottom. At that point, Aye was already too far away from the M14c, so it naturally did what was smart and blew itself ta pieces, prevents baddies from just pickin' it up casual-like, which was why there was no waypoint marker for it anymore.

_Plus-Minus 19 seconds remaining._

"Oo~ Lawd, for the love of the Lady: Sheila, cancel Full Action, an' dial it down ta ten percent. Vision mode: Low Light, _execute_," Aye holler out, startin' ta feel things get a little too uncomfortable inside.

Naturally, the simple AI responds on a dime, "Orders received. Commencing cool down."

_Good girl_.

Sorry, mah other side musta wanted ta hear her voice, which was why he didn't start the coolant flush hi'self. Jerk off.

_Heart rate too high. Blood pressure gotta calm down. Heat sinks almost full capacity. Aye look like a real bright thermal bloom right about now. Energy readin' less than seventy. Might wanna guzzle down on a nutri-pack with the little down time we got._

On the bright side, multi-taskin' comes natural with two "heads" in one body, as a little dispenser straw tube thing-a-ma-jig snake up, with a hiss, ta where Aye can stick mah chin out and bite it. Standard combat load for a powered device includes enough nutrition for the powered trooper ta last for about forty-eight hours. Yes, they even include a little "bathroom" function if ya really got ta go. Technically, the liquid chow is supposed ta suppress ya natural needs long enough for ya ta get back ta the rear, but not all everybody takes kindly ta it.

Don't even ask what they put in it. Aye knows it's gots calories, vitamins, and everythin' a good trooper needs ta stay in the fight. Cons: it tastes like somethin' indescribable. Hope they fix it one of those days. Orange Ade-Kool flava would be nice, at least. Pros: it doesn't taste like Moonshine burnin' piss rocket fuel that's liable ta just melt ya liver. And it manages ta stay down.

Anyways, that's enough of trooper talk. Aye still be kickin' a nasty, stanky cold sweat (so lookin' forward ta that showa), but it's about time we carry on with the suck. First things first, Aye give a blink towards the little blinking priority icon do-hickey, looks like an exclamation mark, on the corner of mah HUD next to the mini-map. Folks who use powered devices have all sorts of tastes when it comes ta personalizin' all that fancy vectronics inta somethin' that won't blow their minds on the HUD. By the way, Aye keep it pretty minimalist mahself: mini-map (top left), heading (little ticker on the bottom), altimeter (two parallel runners straight center like a pilot's), vitals (bottom left), and weapons (bottom right) --- all in a quasi-transparent blue.

_Heat sinks about less than fifty. Turnin' on the mufflers. Stand. Easy now. Good. Walk. Stop. Look around. Cavern looks bug-made. Too neat. Looks like Aye broke through an access tunnel. Closed off now. Four main passages. No movement on motion, 'cept us. _

The mission request comes in a nice executable, encrypted file. Go-go biometrics and the password of the day, and ding-ding, Aye get treated ta a-nice pre-recorded audio-visual presentation hangin' out in a window on the top right. Aye'll save ya the grief of the details and bring it down simple. Still, don't know why the think-tanks insist we record everythin' onto the onboard mission recorder, but Aye be ramblin'.

Republic Commandos: Theta Squad consistin' of RC-1133 through RC-1136. Mission: they were assigned ta destroy a Separatist battle droid factory. Squad went dark about ten minutes ago; right when Aye be shot down. Three of 'em Jango's finest were killed for sure, but the fourth might still be alive - RC-1136, the demo-man. My job was simple, finish what they started with a twist. See, high command fears the Seps might make the poor test-tube boy spit out Republic secrets. However, some paranoid pessimist on the intel staff also figured, since the GAR is a **clone **army, the Seps might plan ta do more than just mine for gold.

This is where Aye'ma come in. Why Aye was rerouted on site, instead of another clone commando team. Aye'll be tracking RC-1136 usin' the transponder still workin' on his Katarn-class commando armor. Hafta get pretty close ta be able ta triangulate the signal, assumin' he still wearin' it, but it's mah best bet. Along the way, Aye'll blow up the factory, and hopefully, track down the rest of his "brothers", too. HQ don't want a single thing gettin' away.

It's a dirty job, but Aye can't resist the six figures worth of credits tickin' up should Aye chose ta accept the bid. Feel free to bid higher or lower, but declinin' was a bad idea: insta-death from neurotoxins from the same stim-injectors that can feed me bacta too. Course, what did Aye pick?

_Yes_. _And easy street is --- that-a-way_.

Morales be overrated; professionalism is a must. You don't ask "_why_?". You ask "**how much**?". Guess that's why they call me --- "Green Collar". Money and power are 'bout all a-body can really trust in a _**limited**_ galaxy.

_Killin' the Mastah didn't free me_.

Aye only traded one set of chains for another.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *


	29. Entry 1 27: Infiltration

* * *

Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

* * *

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.27:

Infiltration

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

* * *

_So_, _did ya enjoy in the flight movie_?

_By the way_, _it's cold_.

_No, really_.

_It's balls to the walls cold_.

_So,_ **wake up**.

* * *

"Hn? Oh, looks like..." a voice, familiar, called out to me in the Blackness.

Cold.

_Osik_. _Why am I_... _My head_. _ It feels_. _So heavy_. _A new scenery_. _ Flat plains_. _Free, open sky_. _A frontier_.

"C'mon, sleepy head..."

A foreign invasive sensation to the void scenery I had become intimately acclimated to, what amounted to my dreams more often than not.

_Wait_. _No_.

"Hey, don't play cute..."

Like a keen scalpel, it pricked and prodded the flesh, explored the wet sinew, and soon had traded the surgical tool for a hack saw, carving its way into bone and...

_Stop_. _I can almost see_-!

"Chrono? _Oy_, Chrono Harlaown!"

I woke to a pair of blue eyes, wide with the hanging shadow of worry lurking overhead. Even in the haze of first waking from nothing, I matched the eyes to her face, and though it was a short time we were together, that sparkling color had been engraved into my heart. Honestly, I admit it was a strange way to memorize someone, a habit that infected me from childhood, yet as frivolous as it sounded, I believed in the "romantic" concept that the eyes were windows into one's own soul. You can change your face as many times as you wish, ten thousand hooks in every crease and wrinkle, but your eyes will always tell the truth. The idea worked in my favor, more often than not, though I would not recommend it to another.

Use the cues and techniques that works for you, which was what I was taught by my instructors in Investigative Sciences.

"I'm up. I'm up," I grumbled back, though I could not help but react on reflex, that is to snuggle up further into my non-existent pillow. Well, there was a pillow, except...

...it belonged to a certain someone's shoulder, and boy, could I feel the baleful heat from coming from her glare, sending a rush of red up the nape of my neck.

"**Hey**. _Yous_. You're really trying to play _cute_ with me today, aren't you?"

I turned about and stared back, as straight faced as humanly possible, which was not more than a hapless half-grin.

"Err, is that a bad thing?"

Unbelievably, as if struck by an explosion, a metaphorical smokescreen erupted around the Corellian hellcat's face. She turned beet red and her hair appeared to defy gravity by standing on end for a full five seconds before settling down to veil her gaze. I could scarcely believe my own eyes. Had I just defeated the legendary...

_Whack_.

"Ow! M-My head..."

Obviously, I spoke too soon.

"_Mir_'_osik_. I almost wish we weren't wearing utilities today, so I could let you freeze. But what did I do instead, out of the kindness of my heart? The only thing we got close to a blanket? And the fact, you were out cold? Well, I decided to share this snow-pattern poncho liner between the two of us."

"Uh, thanks," I acquiesced impulsively, without even thinking it over. Some say it was a bad habit of mine, for I seem to be quick to thank others for the tiniest of things. Case in point, Nina Wang, obviously, had been offended, despite my good intentions.

As for right now, it was the equivalent of the mouse biting the cat in the nose, for Ryuune Zoldark turned even redder and her armor of composure was wearing quite - _thin_.

"The mission assignments are supposed to be random! Oh, _Tumorah_, what did I do to get stuck with you as a battle buddy, and us two, _alone_, in a dug out cave?"

Wait, what? The examination has already begun? B-But that cannot be, I had only been walking into the in-processing tents, after saying my farewells to everyone, and then...

"Hey, what's with that stupid look? Oh, or is it..." she cleared her throat histrionically and spoke once more, "doth I displease thee, mi'lord?"

Now, it was my turn to redden, but...

"No. I could not fathom a better partner right now, and as much as you might think I favor Nina, her place is with Nagi."

Damnation: why am I always blurting out unnecessary things-!? It must be _his_ influence, again. Wait. Hey, was she turning --- _pink_?

"H-Hey, if you're awake, do you mind?!"

This time I did not offer a verbal apology, but made to move - only to meet with unexpected _difficulty_. My body was "straining", a strong indicator that I needed my next "fix" soon. Admirably, I managed to keep the grimace from my face, and thinking better, decided to distract a flustered Ryuune Zoldark with a new line of conversation.

"So, care to spare me a sitrep on what I missed?"

Eagerly, she took the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

"Well, sir, though you can't hear the fighting from our little safe haven here," the blonde gestured at the dim expanse around us, which would have been a barely tolerable fit for a full grown adult, "OpFlashpoint has started. And by the horrible draw, we're stuck together on S-O-F mission."

Us two on a sensitive special operations mission? ...Could there be any other combination that could make any more "noise"? Hold that thought. I would rather **not **imagine.

"I got pretty much the same story as you, said goodbye and good luck, walked into the tent, and," she clapped her hands together crisply," what do you know? I was here!"

I nodded, an unspoken assent for her to continue, as I checked myself over, _casually_.

"As you oughta figure, I woke up first, and boy, did things get interesting fast. The fighting must've tipped off my danger sense: yellin', screaming, the bark of an E-WEB, the yips of blaster rifle, explosions, and yup, a fire, which means smoke. Our crash site. See, looks like we were on some civvie airspeeder transport originally, as part of our cover to infil the zone. We weren't shot down, but it was obvious we had suffered some kind of catastrophic failure.

"I swear, if I ever find out which _shabuir_ strapped me into the co-pilot's seat, that _aruteisse_ and I are going to have harsh words with Lord Mirdalan, as the referee. Miraculous, there wasn't an ache or a scratch on me, so at least the accident had been staged perfectly. You, Harlaown, weren't so lucky."

She was _right_. I had been - strip searched...

"You were in the cargo hold, strapped in, but - you still got ejected. Can you imagine how hacked off I was to find you laid out could on the deck?"

"Very."

My compact emergency medpack had been confiscated, likely deemed an unfair advantage in an environment where other examinees had to make do with what was available. Granted, if I had been more sly, as in the exemplarily character of Nagi Dai Artai, I would have had one less critical hassle to worry about. Yes, officially, these next fourteen days was to be unpleasant to the extreme, and some unknowing person had just royally hacked me off!

"But, y'know, I swear you've got _that_ Devil's luck on your side, 'cos guess what? You were thrown into a whole bunch of pretty cushy boxes, softened up the impact nice, though you were still out cold. The bruise I took care with your little present. Fun, eh?"

Ryuune beamed and thumbed a finger up at the bandanna I had gifted to her only the day before. Indeed, I was affirmed once more how it suited her, and somehow, the sight combined with the fact my creation had served its purpose well managed to curb my rising ire. Now, I only dreaded how I was to keep my condition secret from her.

"Well, there wasn't too much time to pat myself on the back. When in a chaotic warzone, where lines of command-and-control and a frontline ain't there yet, expect the worse even out of trained boots on the ground. Yup, a whole posse of opportunist, scum sucking frakkers showed up real fast in some half-assed speeder. It wasn't fun but I got us both out and what little I could scavenge on the fly."

"Inventory?"

"Two five gallon utility jugs that, surprise-surprise, had water in 'em, so we're both good for a minimum of five days. A dossier. A map. A poncho liner. An old school _lensatic_ compass (time to see whose the _**real **_land, no, _ace_ orienteer). And an open case with six flavors of post-traumatic _shavit_ disorder, or in trooper talk, the brown river of _Montezuma_. How thoughtful of 'em, right?"

Meal, Ready-to-Eat, a necessary evil out in the field, and so it appeared to me that nutrition and defecating in the negative four-degrees centigrade weather would be our most immediate challenge. Condensing water I could do easy with my Class-III certification as an "Alchemist" (a magical specialty I will always thank Countess Lowran for recommending me to), but conjuring useable toilet paper... Note to self: find nature-friendly toilet paper, along with a whole list of other necessary gear ASAP, or I had better figure out how to broach the subject of _scourgify_ to Ryuune Zoldark. ...We were going to need a small miracle to complete this mission.

"Anything else?" I raised an eyebrow, taking a sidelong glance at our "stash". I admit, I was quite impressed she managed to drag me plus our supplies and locate a temporary safe haven for us, the cave entrance painstakingly disguised with twigs and uninviting flora.

"'cept for what we got on us? Zero percent," she gave me the thumbs up, a wholly inappropriate gesture considering our circumstance.

Wait. That bloomingly cheerful...

"There is something you are not telling, is there not?" my gazed turned cynical and flat.

By the looks of her, you would believe that such a young, passionate lioness would be inscrutable under the suspicion of wrong-doing. Ordinarily that would be a "yes", but in the case of things she deemed trivial or petty, it was a definitive "no". Though a recent habit, I believe, living with her for three-odd cycles as she grew stronger and wiser, bequeathed unto me a point of reference whose validity could not be denied. Oh yes, there was the tell-tale blush, the pout of her trembling lips, and a clearly nervous tremor to her open expression, eyes open wide and an almost smile on her face, clearly trying to prove her innocence. Had we been in warmer weather, it would not be a stretch to see her break out into a sweat.

"N-Nothin'! Nothing at all! Who do you take me for, Harlaown?" she laughed animatedly.

Playing hard to get are we? Well, I did not expect any less from her..._khe_! On second, I had better hurry this up.

"You read the dossier on your own, did you not?"

"Ah..." the blonde-haired lioness blanched wide-eyed at my accusation.

"Congratulations, that makes you our fearless leader," I nodded amiably, though in the inside, well, you can imagine my sudden stroke of worry. Like it or not, I was used to having responsibility thrown on my shoulders, to lead because circumstances demanded so. But now, was I to be the one to follow?

The notion, oddly, made me feel ill. Still, it would be a good experience for Ryuune, and with myself by her side, I can act at the least as a "safety net" and a good dose of reality.

"Cadet First-class Chrono Harlaown at your disposal, ma'am. Your orders?"

The gesture, luckily, had its intended effect.

"Th-Thanks, chief," she beamed with a hint of red, thumbing a finger to her cheek. "Uh...well...I don't really have any plans right now, so..."

Some may believe this to be a concession of egos, but to me, who was always the victim of circumstances, guided forth by the unseen hand, I had no such thing. I do not believe I am worthy of any accolades or praise, and yet, the girl of fair hair and eyes of the clear sky across from me, contrary to her self-confident appearance, held me high perched upon a pedestal. To acknowledge her as such of being in the "captain's chair" was a necessary and proper course of action. Failure to do so would only produce disaster in the long run from the unspeakable trauma.

"How about we chow down and I'll fill you in on what we gotta do, then, I guess, we'll play it by ear from there, right?"

Yes, that will do for now.

* * *

Our first rendezvous point, by a stroke of luck, was only twenty klicks from our present position. Most initial recruits, at least by Galactic Marine Corps standards, can run five klicks in under twenty-seven minutes, whereas a full four hours and thirty minutes is usually alloted to a 15k hike in full gear. Therefore, in theory, we could cover that distance on foot in roughly two hours, provided we had no gear to carry, the appropriate attire, and proper road conditions.

The reality, of course, was far from the ideal. My own unique philosophy managed to save us some trouble, namely what to do with our supplies. Other more conventional groups would be forced to carry them, but for myself I have an interest in spatial manipulation. Most pursue the field in the hopes of more lofty goals, I learned the art solely for the purposes of bending, breaking, and binding "space" to my will. Thanks to that desire, I have gained access to the spell series "Vector Space", essentially a domain of holding exclusive to myself under normal circumstances.

At that time, I was still a novice, so my capacity was not much more than an impressively big closet, but convenient all the same for our purposes. In went our stock, safely stored at room temperature, out of sight and out of mind from potential opportunists and the mercy of the elements. The only problem was that our storage space could only be accessed by myself; I had yet to grasp the ability to create "domain keys" that would allow others access as well.

Chow and water was quick and only painful for myself, though I asked that we ought to wait at least thirty minutes to let it all settle down before heading out. I was amazed with what gusto Ryuune ravaged her MRE as if it were a feast, and with our extra brief break, declared she was going to take a cat nap. Enthusiasm so it appeared apparently helped to brighten an otherwise bleak situation.

For a lack of a better term, the assignment handed to us was a "Sneaking Mission". We were operators from the outside; soldiers that did not exist from an undisclosed sovereignty sent here to observe the war for the next fourteen days and fourteen nights. The mission objective was to gather critical military intelligence on the tactics and capabilities of the two armies, Red and Blue, vying for control of the region, using a combination of live field data and secret reports from informants. Survive, and on the fourteenth day, we will be extracted at the final rendezvous point in the Valley of End.

Our immediate objective was to arrive at the first rendezvous by 1905 today, sharp. Should we be unable to do so, our incompetence will result in an automatic mission failure, as we would be unable to make contact with our first informant, whom shall supply us with mission critical equipment and some basic necessities. Everything else, we would have to make do on our own.

It was at noon when we set out. We did not arrive until dusk at 1830. Our march had suffered a particularly crippling delay in the form of snow that sank us all the way down to our hips. For grown adults, it would not have been as challenging to traverse, but they would have to face a different challenge altogether. The drumbeats and festival of War was everywhere in the hilly white tundra, populated with sparse vegetation and the odd tree. Big black plumes of smoke from burning wreckage and sporadic yelp of blasterfire shadowed us with every step, punctuated on occasion by near earth shaking detonations from much heavier ordinance.

We were sitting ducks out in the open. What, with our dark blue uniforms, the trail we left behind more than easy to spot from a prominent vantage, made the looming threat of ambush all too real. I had confidence that between Ryuune and myself, we had plenty of combat experience to go around, at least not to get caught like deer in the headlights, none of which would matter if a sniper or a grenade were to find us first. Of course, we had our devices, but the success of our mission was reliant entirely on our ability to keep a low profile.

An army of two against armies of a thousand-plus was not sensible odds in the slightest. Once each of the respective headquarters was able to reassert their command and control over their forces, heavens forbid we anger them enough to send a full company, two-hundred men strong, after us. No matter where we run, it would not be far or fast enough to escape them.

The journey had been difficult, but now that we had arrived at long last to the town of Cyril, I believed Ryuune's decision to be the correct one. Yes, it was her idea, in fact, to stay the course and hoof it out here on the heel-and-toe express. I, myself, had second thoughts and had been willing to trade for the risks, so we could arrive sooner.

"Talk about a ghost town," my fearless leader murmured from beside me, half burrowed into the snow.

Like a pair of badgers, we had "crept" up to the crest of a nearby hill, sizeable enough to provide us with an adequate survey of the town, and careful not to skyline ourselves either by staying low as possible.

Cyril, a former trading post, had seen better days. The borough was neither too big or too small and had a simple fortified fence of timber to mark its boundaries, which had long since fallen into a dilapidated condition from lack of maintenance, much like the town itself. Two major roads lead to a red-hued courthouse at the center of town, the only building that seemed to retain its original color, despite the elements, which effectively divided the borough into two halves of a pie. The still standing buildings appeared to be made mainly from timber, usually shored up with brick and mortar, though a few prefabricated structures made of metal and fiber glass peppered the neighborhoods too.

"Permission to speak frankly, ma'am?" I piped up somewhat cheerfully, as a different kind of chill settled into the pit of my gut. What I would do for a pair of electrobinoculars, even old-fashioned, low-tech macrobinoculars would do.

"Shoot, Harlaown," she gazed on with a smile.

It was strange, but ever since we have got here, I swear, Ryuune has been smiling the entire time. In fact, on our hike to Cyril, the Corellian even commented jovially that the explosions and sounds of combat were liken to a lullaby of rolling thunder.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Methinks, perhaps, she had more of "The Right Stuff" than I did myself.

"Ah-ha ha, when is it ever not a _bad_ feeling with you, chief?"

She was enjoying our potentially deadly experience, quite so.

"Towns are meant to be lived in. The lack of any signs of life at all is a clear sign of danger."

It was indeed an oppressive sight: the dark timbers and rotting plywood walls combined with the fast approaching hour of twilight, bathing the war torn landscape in shadows, only added to the heavy atmosphere.

"I love your paranoia, y'know that?"

Every broken window, foreboding corner, and creaking doorway spoke of an unseen assailant lurking just beyond my sight. Surely, there were eyes and ears in the hollow darkness, waiting for the unsuspecting patrol to pass by - and _stop_. A death trap, and we were about to walk right into its jaws and spring the iron maw close.

"I believe it to be a healthy dose of realism."

Her smile blossomed into a feral grin.

"Don't sweat it too much. C'mon, let's go back down a bit and slap that poncho liner over us. Don't wanna take any chances of anyone spotting the flash of us _equipping_, right?"

Ho boy, here we go.

* * *

As a rule of thumb, "Equipping" (or Transformation) is part aesthetics, part irrefutable science, and part practical need. It is possible, in fact, to create a transformation process that is silent and not flashy at all; however, when a mage activates his or her devices, or even usessorcery, there are natural consequences that cannot be avoided. See, the use of sorcery automatically triggers an increase in body temperature that can be used to track and identify individuals by their thermal signature. Equipping uses a considerable amount of _mana_, depending on the complexity of the device being activated and the Barrier Jacket being materialized for the magus, which results in an abnormally larger than normal thermal bloom that will last for a time.

Also, there can be a significant drop in the available free _mana_ in area depending on a number of factors, for example how dependent is the _magi_ on natural _mana_. _Mana _in nature will replenish itself automatically from the leylines of the planet, much in the same manner _Odo_ is produced by our own Linker Cores. Obviously, drawing on this natural resource will cause disruptions in the ecosystem's output flow, sometimes obvious and sometimes more subtle, which can be used to "sniff out" a mage's presence as well.

Hence, why Ryuune and myself did not use our devices, until now… If there was any time, we were to be attacked now would be the time, as we were fresh from our transformations, sprinting across the dulling white expanse towards the town. Both our devices, of course, featured radiators that were also incorporated into our Barrier Jackets, but they were not designed with "stealth" in mind. Anyone looking in the dark with thermal goggles could see us clear as, no, brighter than day: an inherent weakness of all mages, which helped to make guided weapons practical against us.

With the aid of modern snow shoes fitted to my new armored boots, which could also collapse should I find purchase on normal terrain, crossing the expanse of fifty yards was a brisk exercise compared to the grueling hike. Of course, I was not taking point; that honor would go to Ryuune Zoldark. Assisted by the inexplicable technosorcery of EOTI, she made my own movements seem ungainly and amateurish, for she moved as if "walking on water", her footfalls not even disturbing the packed snow that betrayed my every step treacherously. Each of my own crushing crackling and squeals beneath my feet made me wince in frustration and snarl inwardly with envy, as she ran effortlessly ahead through the moaning wind.

What an armored "beauty" she had become, like a warrior princess come to life from the old pages of myth, minus the bow and arrow. Instead, Ryuune cradled what appeared to be the latest iteration of a weapon, now featuring a casing to protect and mask the glowing blue energy coils underneath, I have not seen in over a cycle: the ASMD Shock Rifle, an exotic energy weapon developed by EOTI. Unlike myself, the Corellian had very few spells, relying on Ex-Quipping (or Exchange and Equip) various "data weapons" stored in her device, and her device's high-tech Barrier Jacket to see her through a battle.

Thus, in essence, combat to her came down to finding instinctive practical solutions versus pre-meditated technical solutions to "problems". I compensate for the latter, for I could not come close to matching her for "brute force"; the difference in "machine potential" was to great, and physically, she was my superior, too. As such, we made quite the pair, though it was far from an ideal arrangement. See, to behold our true strength would require Nagi and Nina as well.

We stacked up against the backside of a shed, pausing a moment to catch our breath and listen to our surroundings. I should not have allowed myself to wander so much, yet even now, I could not help but compare myself to her.

My own Barrier Jacket was a reproduction of the Phase II clone trooper armor, minus the utility belt, color scheme preset for winter camouflage, and a brand new helmet. With my busy schedule, I was unable to replicate all the functions of the real helmet, nor could I acquire the funds to purchase schematics that would give me the same functionality. Instead, I wore a lightweight modular "crash helmet" brought up to milspec, with helmet mounted lights, and a retractable transparent faceshield that could display infrared and night vision from the optics mounted in my helmet too.

I carried no visible weapon, save for my element, what appeared to be a black "ceremonial mace" stowed away in a holster at my hip, its cylindrical head adorned with a halo-like ring and an offset wing. Originally, it had been as large as a quarterstaff, but time and experience had made me the wiser, reducing S2U's "staff" to its present size. Casting larger, more demanding spells became more problematic and overheating was a concern, but by adapting my fighting style, such drawbacks became superfluous. After all, I still had no "artillery" in the neighborhood equal to an area bombardment spell or a siege-level offensive spell in the first place, with my heaviest attack being "Power Buster", an anti-tank level, particle beam-based offensive spell.

The greater mobility, the ease of use afforded, and S2U's mace form's more humble sipping of _prana_ was much more practical-

**Thk**-**thk**!

Judging by that deeply cross glare she was shooting me, Ryuune Zoldark was not amused to see me zoning, for which I would likely get an earful for later. The only reason she was not chewing me out not now over a telepathic link was due to time constraints and the security risk of someone listening in on our conversation. Therefore, we were relying completely on hand signals.

My attention fixed; we moved, stalking through the chilling moans of the back streets. Alas, there was no time to methodically and meticulously pie off every door and window, which would have helped to soothe my growing dread of impending doom. My overactive imagination was already putting a face to the mirthless eyes observing us unseen, waiting with bloodthirsty anticipation for the moment where the trap could be sprung at last.

Personally, I had no idea where we were going, but Ryuune seemed to be following some invisible navigation marker that brought an easy confidence to her gait. Every obstacle she attacked with clockwork precision, rifle first, moving as if in a choreographed dance. Move, halt, rifle, observe, all clear, move, halt, crossing, kneel at corner, rifle turkey peek, all clear, I'll cover - you go first, etc., so it all went as darkness descended upon us.

We vaulted over another high wall, after checking for booby traps and being sure there was no unpleasant surprises waiting on the other side. Had we been grown adults a buddy assisted boost jump would not have been necessary, with myself then leaning back over to haul her up. It would be a foolish mistake to dismiss the importance of teamwork across all ages and genders. "ME's" do not win wars; "WE's" do, and soon enough, we had arrived at our destination, a lonesome alleyway not so unlike where Ryuune Zoldark and I first met some three cycles ago.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it, girl?" I heard a certain someone murmur under her breath, breaking our silence.

It was a difficult choice, but I decided to act as if I did not hear. Likely, she was only talking aloud to herself, a coping mechanism, and to prove my suspicions correct, the Corellian lioness signaled me over to stack up by an intact door along the brick wall. Curious, it had a door knob...

_Knock, knock, knock_, _knock_...

Methinks, your imaginations can tell quite well how my jaw dropped and my bowels started doing somersault flips! Outrageous. Insanity! I could not believe what I seeing. What on Mid-Childa was Ryuune Zoldark thinking? Had she gone bonkers?! Yes, sound traveled slower in cold weather, but factor in wind shear, and it sounds much more audible downwind!

**No**, calm down. Yes, calm down. Ryuune knew a lot more about the details of the mission than I did. Perhaps, it was morse code to let whoever was on the other side know we were allies, yes? There was no way she would purposefully...

"Oh, _frak_, this!" the girl slurred angrily and pounced off the wall, assuming a basic warrior stance, "_**HOOAH**_!"

Oh. My. Mystra. That knucklehead just kicked open the door (using a reverse side kick to be exact), sundering it messily, and more importantly, noisily with seemingly ear-splitting bang, clean off its hinges-

"_**AGGHHH**_!" a voice cried shrilly from within as the freshly dented door (metal, in fact) must have landed on them.

Well...I guess that must be our informant.

"After you, chief," Ryuune beamed at me, completely and utterly unrepentent.

I suppose, some quirks about people take longer than expected to change.

* * *

"YOU BRATS!"

So seethed one Mister Nine furiously, as he tended to himself with a salve of _bacta_. Atypical, perhaps, of individuals in his line of work, the human man was an unremarkable individual of forty-something cycles, plain-faced and putting on weight. Other than the fresh stinging bruise, now covered with the salve, he was about what I would expect for a civilian living in the area, dressed for the weather too, except his accent was not close to matching that of a native.

He sounded more Amerian than Yuke.

"Awww, is the big booboo hurtin' that bad, old man?" Ryuune antagonized the fuming gentleman with a toothy leer.

We were now in a hidden room located in the basement of the long disused general store we had just - "assaulted", and whose side door I had to fix "shoddily" back in place. Under the electric luminescence, her new shade of long red hair, reaching well past her hips, and green eyes became alight with an inner fire. Combined with the flashy feminine vanity of her Barrier Jacket, she had transformed into an different person, effectively so.

"B-Brat, don't you know how to follow orders?" retorted Mister Nine.

Indeed, in her full glory, she was every bit the warrior princess. What, with her golden horned tiara and armor sporting a primary white base, a gold secondary, and a tertiary green matching the four "control jewels": one in the collar, both shoulders, and the last in the tiara. To think, the Barrier Jacket was not even finished yet, as I heard she had plans to add wings and an extra set of "Binder" pauldrons for added aerial maneuvering surfaces and protection.

"Hey, we had less than fifteen microns left. You're the _mir_'_osik_, who was playing games, with us, old man."

In comparison, I was but her loyal generic footman. Stealth, obviously, had not marked up high on Ryuune's list, when making improvements to Valsione. However, I could understand the reason behind such "madness". We all tend to show up rather "hot" on infrared, which made camouflage worthless in most situations. But there was a purpose to madness, too, for by being the most flashy, enemies would focus on her first, giving myself or her allies time to act; she had quite flamboyantly marked herself as the "big cheese" in charge, after all.

"HumanInt wet work's serious business, brat. It _pays _to be on time."

"Oh, but we _were_ on time! See? Or else, I don't think we'd get a chance to shoot the piss like this now, would we?"

The Corellian lioness had a point there. Yes, she had breached protocol (grossly), but in the end, we still made contact.

"Urghhh, hey, you! Yeah, you, the clone kid!"

Me? A Clone Trooper? I am nowhere near close to the legendary Jango Fett.

"I doubt every mission is going to need that special touch of _delicacy_, Mister Nine," I spoke up, a touch incensed. My voice altered and amplified by the comlink built-in to my helmet to a cold, mechanical growl, much deeper and fuller than what a child could manage. It was a function inspired totally by Nina Wang, I admit. "Sometimes, people only understand might-makes-right. And in the end, have we not met up with you? Fulfill your end of the contract and everything will continue as planned."

My words had not been intended to soothe nor wound. I only wished to make it clear that precious time was wasting away, and a man of his professional stature should not be idling at such a critical juncture. What I did not expect was for a look of enlightened wonder to blossom on Mister Nina's face.

"Oh? Well, I'll be damned," the man grinned, suddenly sanguine. "That's a surprise. Hmmm. Cool, cool. Alright then, crowd around the work table, kids."

What Ryuune thought of his change of heart, she did not say, though I could see her misgivings clear on her face by the faintly disgusted curl of her cheek.

On the work table was a sizeable attaché case, which unlocked promptly with a satisfying click from a brief biometrics scan to reveal its contents. It was a small cache of essentially supplies: a pair of DC-15S blaster carbines with the "ascension gun" module, ascension harness, and rifle slings for the weapons. We also received one golden plated data wafer (clearly a high security item), a green-coded translucent SD chip, solar rechargers for our PDAs, and a milspec digital camera with an assortment of "flash" drives, zoom lens, and flash hider. Overall, it was a sight welcomed for sore eyes.

"You all can figure out this stuff, but a little hint, the data-stuff is one time use only, so be careful who's going to use what," he turned pointing towards a nearby storage closet. "There's some spare clothes in there. Might help you all pass for plain ol' kids. We do got some kiddies helpin' out with the operation in some of the towns. Could also help you pass through unmolested too, but good luck trying to sweet talk the army kids, if they find you out in the open. Oh, don't forget the daypack, two man tent, and one sleeping bag-"

Predictably, mayhap, Ryuune interjected with a spit take, turning beet red but a moment later.

"Wait. Wait! What!? Only one sleeping bag?"

Mister Nine went right on talking, though I could not help but notice the wry, meaningful wriggle of his brows he sent my way. Clearly, he had his petty revenge, but whatever deeper meaning that was held in the gesture was lost to me, while my Corellian colleague could only fuss and fluster unintelligibly.

"And my favorite, two boxes of baby wipes, a portable incinerator, a box of toilet paper, and a fresh case with twelve meals-refusing-to-exit. Enjoy your brown river, bra-"

A sudden earth shaking shudder interjected, most certainly not on Mother Nature's behalf to protect the sanctity of our ears. Furniture rattled and the lights above us flickered, as faint slivers of dust rained down through the floorboards above. Ryuune and myself were curious, naturally, in the military manner, going to the alert, but such a display was overshadowed by the keen whistle Mister Nine let loose as he shuffled towards a nearby door marked "Water Closet."

He called back over his shoulder at us, before disappearing within, "Damn, would love to stay and chit-chat, but that's my cue to get the hell out of Dodge."

(Hnn? An Amerian expression? I suppose that confirms his-)

The crisp, noisy flush of a sit-down toilet soon followed.

"What. The?" my fearless leader shook her head in spellbound disbelief.

Already anticipating her desires, I sauntered over and opened the door with a little theatrical kick, unnecessary but it helped me to cope with my own confounded thoughts. Sure enough, it was empty with naught a hide or hair of the grouchy forty-something man in sight. I suspected there was some manner of teleportation protocol involved as people do not disappear into thin air _normally_, after all, but we had much bigger fish to fry at the moment, helpfully reminded by a second tremor.

"Alright, grab the trash and pile it in to your fancy hammerspace, Harlaown. I'll upload the goods into Val-chan and my PDA. Take a DeeCee; you're gonna need it, buster! MOVE."

We had company to attend to...

* * *

Ever hear the expression, "I smell trouble"? Trust me, it works.

The first thing that hit my senses, long before we opened the door to the general store proper, first floor, was the _smell_. It pointed out two things to me, namely I had failed to create a truly sealed environment in my Barrier Jacket, an oversight on my part, but on the other hand, it told be quite a bit about the fierce gun battle happening just two blocks away. Something was burning, a walker, judging by the peculiar "chunky" stench left behind by its combustible fuel slug, clinging heavily to the air. The rest was about what you would expect from what combat: a grand symphony of noise and fury.

"C'mon, upstairs!" Ryuune bade me follow with a hiss.

Now, I will profess OSI does not employ individuals anywhere close to conventional special forces, with their fancy camou face paint, indigenous clothing, and love for the suck. What we are, _is_ unconventional special forces in plain clothes or whatever fashion demanded was suitable for our task at hand. Our training regimen is quite eclectic; therefore, even a sensitive special operations mission that myself and Ryuune had been assigned at the time was not beyond our abilities. Adapt, survive, break it, fix it: we will find a way to persevere and make the Op turn out, more or less, "just as planned".

"_Phwoar_, looks like a bonfire party from over here," the Corellian lioness remarked with a wry smile. She seemed to have effectively censored out the rather desperate shouting and invective populating our "soundtrack".

Though our line of sight was blocked by assortment of buildings down our street, we could see from the vantage of the overhang balcony, the orange-red emission of the blaze and hornet's nest worth of blaster bolts, barking and yelping. Red and blue sizzled the air in a constant tempo, and if I was not mistaken, I could see shiny metal forms pressing forwards haphazardly into the raging storm. Whoever they were, they must have been pouring in the fire quite hard to be able to suppress their opponents from being unable to respond with heavier ordinance.

"That's easy street right in that direction. C'mon, let's slip through the back alleys, and see we can get a better vantage. Stay low. Stay quiet."

Normally, I would have protested, but considering what our mission entailed, "passive-aggressive" reconnaissance, I had no choice to go along.

"And if the worst comes, dead men tell no tales, chief."

I could only hope the reality would be as easy as her optimism. Of course, Ryuune Zoldark being Ryuune Zoldark, she did not bother to even use the stars, vaulting right over the balcony and landing into a rolling crouch. I fixed her with a somewhat reproachful look as she gazed up at me with another incorrigible beaming smile, beckoning me to join her. It took quite a bit of effort not to try and out do her simple feat, but as I understood the limitations of my own Barrier Jacket quite intimately, I knew better than to try anything foolish.

"Took ya long enough," she greeted me after I landed from my dead hang. "Come, this way!"

Following the unseen navigation markers once more, privy only to my fearless leader, she lead us through the dark, moody warren of the back alleys ever closer to the rising din of combat. Soon, we passed through a torn up chain fence, long rusted ago, and came to an alley, the mouth of which was nearly blocked off by a disused blaster. The light and noise was near deafening, emanating from the main road. We crept up into the shadow of the dumpster for a closer look, peeking through the cracks, and were not disappointed by the carnage.

Half way up the road from us, towards the direction of the red court house, was the blazing pyre of an AT-OT, a near 6 meter tall by 14.3 meters long open-top walker designed for carrying infantry. It seemed even with our weaponry handicapped, taking down vehicles was still more than possible. The big durasteel caterpillar, armed with four laser cannons (two bow; two aft) was toppled over on its side, having crashed through the front of a building, and demolishing the structure more or less. At least thirty-four troops could have been carried aboard when the walker had been operational. Now, it was little more than ample cover and an impromptu bonfire.

Bringing up the rear of the mechanized column was a quartet of landspeeders: Arrow-23's with concussion grenade launchers and V-19's, AKA Gian Speeders, opening up with their light repeating blasters in the advancing column of the droid ambush. An odd assortment of armored figures of various heights and competence were littering our front all over, though they all shared the common blue armor, which appeared to identify them as part of the same force.

I estimated some fifty combatants, plus or minus a few for the KIA already lying paralyzed in the snow, and the rest moving through the buildings to flank, or provide support fire from the elevated balconies and rooftops. The droids themselves were the usual trend of mass B1 battle droids marshaled by their bigger, badder brethren the B2 super battle droids, complemented by the deadly Droiddekas. Clearly, they had the numerical advantage, and more B1 battle droids were pouring out steadily from the red court house to their rear in total disregard for their mounting losses piling up in the street. To make matters worse, a hulking giant of a battle droid, the SD-6 _Hulk_ infantry droid, which towered over all with its twin blaster cannons and shoulder-mounted ion cannons was adding its considerable weight to the battle.

The cadets fighting by the walker's wreckage, trying to hold the line, with just their blaster rifles and grenade-like offensive spells (obvious by the telltale Mid-Childan magic circles), were in clear and present danger of being overwhelmed at any moment. It was a miracle the big brute in the rear of the droid army, a rogue unexpected threat so it appeared, had yet to score a hit on the escort vehicles. A single hit from the ion cannons or an extended salvo from the blaster cannons would have been enough to rip apart the landspeeders easy, who would could only jockey from side to size in the road, just wide enough for two AT-TEs to fit through.

No one dared to stand out by opening up with a major shooting spell in the storm of the constant fusillade of blue and red being exchanged by both engaged companies. Stray blaster bolts impacting the snow combusted in tiny fireballs, while others splintered and set fire to old damp wood, or disintegrated barely intact masonry. It was a war of attrition that the droids would win inevitably for the grenadiers would tire and the Arrow's would run out of their critical ordinance.

Every loss was hard felt at the thin blue line. A lucky blaster bolt caught a fellow in the face, accompanied by a flash of a miniature detonation from his or her Barrier Jacket simultaneously. Tumbling back head over heels, he or she laid frighteningly still in the snow, like a doll cut from its strings, forcing a comrade to drag their "corpse" out of the way. Even though it was a training exercise, the deaths felt real and final.

"Why aren't the metalheads pushing in?" Ryuune murmured, continuing to film the action right through her own eyes even as a blaster singed the air above our hidden vantage showering us with debris. "There's no need to drag this out. They're machines. Logical little clockwork toys. They haven't even lost any of their Bee-Twos or Dekas yet. So, why?"

Transfixed I was on her keen expression in the dazzling firelight, a moment of idleness I am afraid that I did not see, only feel the titanic tremor of the coming aftershock. The flash was but an instant yet as well I had pulled her away from the crevice, trying to bodily shield the auburn-haired princess myself. Whipping wind and a wild scatter pattern of blaster fire howled just as suddenly onto our position, spraying more detritus on top of us, and amazingly, I felt a sharp jab to the back of where my kidneys ought to be... Painful. My sight doubled, as the crackle of foul ozone assaulted my nose.

There was an explosion, a keening death knell, and all at once a barbaric fury sounded in the air.

"_Frak_, Chrono, you alright?" I was aware of Ryuune looking over me, big green eyes filled with worry. "No way. Mandalore damned lucky ricochet burned right through the dumpster! Big angry, red hole there. Phew, looks like your Barrier Jacket held, partner."

I could hear the escort landspeeders revving up their engines, a multitude of stampeding feet and shouts, as if...

"What is going on the other side?"

"It's a counter attack, all out!" she explained to me excitedly, glancing back over her shoulder. "Bunch of idiots finally flanked into a building, directly to the left, up the street, and they took out the _Hulk_! Droids are kinda messed up from the concussion of the blast. Speeders look like they're gonna bum rush right through 'em and crash the courthouse!"

"Good, then we're..."

Damn, it feels like a phantom bruise there... Had the output of those blasters been limited, truly?

"Uh, oh y-yeah, let's-"

_**WHACK**_!

At that moment, it appeared Tumourah had enough with Her free lip service and decided our good luck was to run out. A side door we had missed swung wide open with a mighty kick. Cold dread seized me by the spine, focusing my vision for an instant, as that old, familiar fight-or-flight instinct unsheathed itself likened to a trusted bootknife. Like slow motion, I knew two individuals would come assaulting through any moment now, as tight and quickly as possible, following the same professional tactics we all shared commonly, and peel off to cover both "paths" of the alleyway. The seemingly thundering sound of boot clad feet against wooden floor boards gave their imminent appearance away in advance, but if there was a time to regret, it had long since...

They came, blurring blue shadows with their weapons swinging outboard, but before even I could think to pull the trigger, having already sighted in on force of habit, an iridescent ball of lavender, white hot plasma, bigger than a regulation size basketball slammed into the "gun" pointing at us. The unstable energy sphere splattered, dissipating into the invisible crackling barrier field exuded from the individual's Barrier Jacket, but momentum still had to go somewhere, and he, judging by his choked cry, was lifted to his tip toes, off-balance. He did not have a chance to retaliate because by the time his battle buddy realized what has happening a second unstable energy sphere partially penetrated the already weakened barrier, throwing the former bodily against the latter.

"DIE, DIE, DIE!"

Surprisingly, through the stinging smoke, I already found myself rushing towards the open door by best guess, my hand drawing out S2U's element, a spell coming to mind. Having fought together for so long, I anticipated her order well in advance, stacking up by the doorway. A quick listen of the bewildered shouts from inside only affirmed that I was making the necessary and proper choice, while she went ahead to **end **unfinished business, the rush of savagery evident on her still pretty, feral smirking face.

Poking just my "mace" through the doorway, I cried out in equally barbaric tones:

"_ZIPPO BREATH_!"

Yes, I have a manportable flame projector in my magical arsenal, with none of the usual, fatally combustible drawbacks to the user, and virtually unlimited fuel. No and no: it was not a napalm derived concept, though I have aspirations to expand to ghastly promethium or straight plasma, eventually, just to have the capability, and I would never dare use it in a situation where friendlies could get splashed. Oh, and yes, I named the spell after a popular lighter as a friendly reminder of its other useful functions, lighting camp fires, burning IPs off, a backup torch, and a source of warmth.

Now, judging by the way that the shouts inside, abruptly, took a change of tone to terrified, shrill cries, its weaponized effect was quite effective. In the heat of the moment, pardon the pun, I lost track of time just standing there, almost clinically detached, waving a roaring stick of "wyrm's breath" back and forth into the door way, yet it could not have been more than a few seconds, probably. For those inside, it must have been inexplicable terror for a handspan's length of time. A barrier field designed to defeat energy projectiles and / or soften physical strikes was not going to just adapt on the fly to a new threat unless that capability was planned for and implemented in advance, which I assure you is quite a difficult technical feat to achieve.

On the other hand, a "wall" formation of Round Shields might be able to...

The sharp double-tap slap on my shoulder let me know it was go time. Cutting off the jet plume of flame, I followed after Ryuune Zoldark, leaving behind the burning building that would shortly come down on the poor fools still inside the inferno of the first floor. Hopefully, they would escape in time, and if they did not...well, we all did sign a "Death Waiver" in advance.

The harsh beat of my heart reverberating in my ear, we were approaching rapidly an intersection, as the back alley street widened. I imagine our heading to be simply the most express exfil route straight out of the town's perimeter, making the best of the confusion in the mayhem, to which we had added our mark, with two confirmed "kills". Up ahead was a junction where two more blue figures jogged into view, turned, and had the misfortune of seeing us, weapons at the ready.

"Halt! Who goes-" one of them cried out, an older boy judging by his deeper, full voice.

There was but a moment's hesitation, a critical mistake, during which Ryuune shortened her stride, allowing me to overtake her, as I leaned back and slid forwards in the snow laden street into a crouch. A bright blue Round Shield bubbled into existence before my outstretched, while my fearless leader emulated my own slide to complete the choreographed maneuver, now instinctive, thanks to our many shared experiences.

"You frakking idiot, shoot them!" the other barked, in fact a girl underneath the anonymity granted by her utilitarian and helmet clad Barrier Jacket.

(Ironically, the gentleman was not a complete idiot. He must have had reasonable doubt to think we were friendlies. Better to try then to leave yourself feeling miserable afterwards knowing you just fragged your own comrades, without even giving them a chance to prove their identities.)

Blue bolts of blaster plasma splattered up against the circular inscribed wall of blue in frustrated fury, unable to reach neither of us beneath the protective "umbrella" of the Round Shield. In a split second decision, the female half of the duo made to flank, but the Corellian lioness already anticipated the flow of the hunt. Exposing only the shock rifle's barrel at a cant, another brilliant ball of volatile plasma was expelled into the air, missing horribly wide, so it appeared, just above and between the two cadets. Such presence of mind not to fear in the face of counter fire could be lauded as bravery or stupidity, alas for them it was only the former.

See, the ASMD shock rifle fires in two modes, and has one particularly nasty trick up its sleeve. Triggering the primary fire, an instant roaring lavender beam of photons lanced through the air like lightning and struck the airborne "shock core". An explosive chain reaction followed in an ear-splitting devastating shockwave of energy from the anti-photons in the plasma's electromagnetic containment field set loose. Suffice to say, the two cadets caught directly in the blast did not stand a chance, their Barrier Jackets detonating, shrouding their disappearance into flash and smoke. When the dust settled, there were two neat, separate broken entry holes in the nearby buildings where the two cadets had likely be deposited forcibly by the explosion, as a brief negative vortex churned the air, shredding stray debris, before dissipating itself.

"_**Huurrah**_! Double Kill: _SHOCK _COMBO - Ryuu-chan's on FIRE, _ze_!"

All that she cheered with a might fist pump; sometimes, I wish I had the same childish enthusiasm for the dirty "wet work" we do. With our latest challenge concurred and basking fresh in victory, my fearless leader beckoned me to follow once more. The worst seemed to be behind us, the hellish fighting intensifying in the background, which appeared to ensure our speedy escape, following the route that only Ryuune could see. Snow-white backstreets widened even more now as we approached what appeared to be more of a residential neighborhood, and our pressing exit beyond the borough's perimeter, almost in sight.

However, we were about to learn that when Lady Luck deals you a bad hand, it does not end with just **one **catastrophe.

"Stick to the pace, chief! Don't get excited on me now," O' Fearless Zoldark called back merrily.

I had to wonder if she thought our dark hour was nothing more than another sunny day on the drill field with Lord Mirdalan hovering over us "paternally", as we dug our faces into the mud for more motivating Galactic Marine Corps push-ups along side Sergeant Major Vau. Myself, I was lagging a little more than ten to fifteen paces behind her so that some lucky sha'buir with a heavy weapon would not be able to pick both of us off in one go. It was not because I was tired in the slightest! Pinky promise.

"If you got breath, _hah_, to run your mouth, Ma'am, then you really, _hah_, should be keeping an eye out for-"

Bad hands come in _pairs_.

_Shhhhh_-**FHWOOHM**!

Abruptly, the world before him blurred and exploded in an ear piercing blast of white, as the ground beneath my armored feet seemed to flex and rebound akin to a trampoline of all the daft things. I was cannoned into the air, in **reverse**, head over heels, performing almost a neat faceplant into the had not my flailing hands haphazardly cushioned my fall. Instead, it was a half-plant and my neck was screaming bloody murder from the jarring whiplash.

Being already in near constant pain, dulled only by my regular intake of painkillers, any spike above the norm, as already demonstrated prior, could cause debilitating effects to me. Here was such a response: my body seized at the stimuli, turning rigid and numb, a natural self-preservation mechanism that any sane creature at the behest of would have followed. I had long since meandered away from such ordinary definitions.

"C-C..ase..._Dee_," was the verbal command I had devised for such an inevitability, forcing the muscles in my jaw to work against the onset of muscular richtus. A pneumatic hiss followed on command, the wonders of artificially synthesized epinephrine and norepinephrine countering the bodies self-defense mechanism and restoring command to me once more.

In a heady adrenaline rush, I pounced neatly back up to my feat, a ghastly snarl on my face, feeling far more alive than I did but moments ago, and dangerously furious. Everything came rushing back to me through the white haze: the fog of war giving way to cool clarity, and what struck me immediately was the _sound_. That "_song_"...maybe it was a credible sign that I had finally gone insane...but I could hear it, the call of cicadas, and when they cried, it was said to herald the glory of summer.

An enraged bovine shriek blasted me in the next second upon comprehension, ending my curious thoughts. Such was the outrageous volume that I was forced to stagger back, the startling effect only compounded further by a blinding flash of light - no - _lights_. I brought a hand reflexively to shield my face, the shadows growing longer. That luminescence it was like staring into a pair of searchlights! My breath quickened. Yes, yes, yes, of course it was making perfect sense: the methodical whir of machinery, hydraulics hissing, as a trio of ribbon thin beams of red, made visible through the motes of dispersed crystallized vapor in the air, tracked and painted themselves on my chest.

_A laser gunsight_!

"See you in hell, commie-bastard!"

_Fierfek_.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.27 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. Not much to say other than "Oh my god, I can't believe it's Tactical Espionage Action!" There is a lot going on here and I can't even begin to comment on everything, so I'm going to leave it to you folks to bring up what interests you, and I'll fire back a reply as always. Promise we'll pick up with more action, some "fun" life in the field segments, and right back into the breach. And yeah, there was a bunch of allusions and homages as per usual; kudos if you spot 'em.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read _Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness _by **Tempest Dynasty** in the Naruto section. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM, or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the _maestro _here.

_Tsudzuku_!


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